Catalyst
by TheOnlyWayIsLove
Summary: Foes old, new and unknown are out for the Virals' blood. Tory fights to protect them, but everyone seems to have an agenda, and the net is closing around her pack - too fast for them to keep up. [Post-"Exposure"]
1. prologue

**Prologue**

The hacker glanced over their shoulder – briefly, so briefly. It took years of navigating social circles to be able to maintain such stimulating yet easily severed conversation with bigwigs; even longer to practice keeping track of everyone in the room at the same time. Well, everyone important or dangerous.

They had always been a natural at this anyway. Easy lies, deceptive masks, anything requiring an engaging distraction while you simultaneously stole their life from right under their nose.

It would be too dangerous for such a flirtation tonight. The hacker was perfectly happy to keep away from Chance Claybourne's conversational circles. It made the job so much neater, slicker, if they could stick to observing for the right moments of engagement – and soon, in a minute or two, they were sure that skinny ginger girl would pull all his attention; he had been too intent on her all night – the hacker would be able to oh-so-smoothly slip by to replace what they had borrowed.

Chance wouldn't feel a thing. No drop in the pocket, no brush of fabric, no waft of scent.

He wouldn't have noticed his shiny new phone was missing, either. Too used to that old Nokia brick, the rebellion it represented, he wasn't in the habit of checking it. Certainly not at a social event like an art show, either. Chance Claybourne would see no difference in the makeup of his phone, and wouldn't know how to force the back of an iPhone 6 if he tried. He would never know he was tagged at all.

Every movement. That was what they would see. When the hacker opened a certain laptop tonight, they would have all screens – all activity – recorded and stored away for the near future.

All that paranoia… for all Chance's paranoia, twitching, constant checking over his shoulder, he would never check in the places that mattered. He never had.

The hacker smiled to themselves, though the old art collector across from them took it as encouragement to continue his monologue.

This was not an attack, a declaration of war. It was a pre-emptive measure that really Chance should have been expecting, but never would.

Silly little boy. The Claybournes always were stupid in the most crucial of ways.

The hacker excused themself from the art collector's monologue and began the trip to brushing past the Claybourne heir.

* * *

**A/N: welcome to my new fic! All planned out across four pages of Word, I'm trying to keep to the same structure as the Reichses do, including for subplots. If you want a more interesting pre-Prologue, see my oneshot "Night Obsessions". Also, this prologue's scene takes place halfway through "Exposure", when Tory is at the art show. The rest of "Catalyst" will be taking place straight after "Exposure" and therefore will have no spoilers barred – be warned if you haven't read it yet! Also, I've tried to incorporate all the info we currently have about "Terminal" (from Brendan's ask page) into "Catalyst".**

**I'm also trying to keep ANs short and sweet since I'm so bad for always doing massive ones. Whoops.**


	2. 1 - 1

**Part One: Arguments**

**1.**

I let go of Chance's arm. A momentary white imprint of my hand was left behind.

Five human Virals. My mind was whirring, trying to string together what this would mean for our pack, for our mental connection, for our flaring –

All I managed to blurt was, "It was you!"

Four confused sets of eyes settled on me. I narrowed mine at Chance. He was absent-mindedly rubbing his cheek, looking ready to collapse. Not exactly like someone who was trying to hide their presence at your almost-kidnapping from you.

But Chance had lied before. I didn't know how deep his defence mechanisms against us went. The boys clearly didn't trust him; why should I?

Better to test him.

"What was him?" Shelton was flicking his gaze between the two of us. "Tory?"

"The eyes at the beach." I steamrollered the questions from my pack. "Remember when Hawfield almost kidnapped me?"

There was a round of groans. Ben lifted his hands from the chair to the roots of his hair in frustration. I held up my arms in surrender.

"What else happened?" Hi flopped onto his chair. "Were you bequeathed the One Ring at the same time? Did the mice find the answer to life, the universe and everything and it was you?"

"After I… escaped," I said carefully, "I was walking back with Cooper. Just before the complex, we saw three sets of red eyes." I met Chance's gaze now. "Red canine eyes just like yours. With added growling. Then Coop barked, the lights came on and the eyes disappeared."

Chance didn't say anything, just shrugged. I wasn't sure if he was deliberately testing me back, trying the boys' patience or was too exhausted to notice our pack's tension.

"So do you know what that was about?" I tried.

"Nope. No."

"Well who's your Pack? As in, who else is infected like you?" Hi asked.

"Calm down, Hiram. There were two scientists working directly with the test subjects, Susan and Azad. Susan had Erythema Infectiosum – the human parvo – as a kid, so we think that's why she's not caught it. Azad is a Viral too."

There was a sharp intake of breath from everyone. _Six human Virals and counting._

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Ben demanded. "You've seen us enough this week."

For a moment, it didn't look like Chance would answer. He rubbed his eyes once more, the flare all melted, before making eye contact at last. "I needed to know for sure. About me, and about you. After all, it was Tory who convinced me that this wasn't real the last few times."

Chance's words held only a hint of disdain, but my cheeks burned and I couldn't look up.

There were no excuses we could give that stood up for our pushing Chance into insanity – or rather, _my _pushing Chance into insanity.

The brief thought crossed my mind that he might not actually have come out the other side of that.

_Definitely don't mention the flare problems. _Clearly the boys were hyper-aware of Chance, distrusting him with everything, and might appreciate a pow-wow before I spilled the very last secret.

We already had enough on each other to take all the Virals down burning, though.

"You still haven't explained the creepy eyes," Hi pointed out. "Spill."

"I don't know what that was," Chance told him flatly. "As far as I know, all infected beings are in our separate lab on Candela's Cole campus. Which, by the way, you should come along to now. Or whenever suits," he added, nodding at our Bolton uniforms. "I probably can't write you a hall pass for 'genetic mutation testing' that Paugh wouldn't personally burn. I can't imagine he's taken an especial liking to the boat kids."

I ignored the old jibe. "That sounds - "

"No."

"What?"

"- like a really crap idea."

I glared at the boys. Ben raised his eyebrows, Hi made cut-throat gestures, and Shelton just shook his head.

"Alright Chance," I wheeled around to face him again. Civil smile pulled out. My own patience for going between everyone was beginning to wear thin. "We need to discuss this first. Can I get your number for when we've decided?"

"Or you could just look out of whatever building you're in. I'm sure he'll be parked below."

I shoved an elbow backwards into Ben's gut without looking. He didn't flinch.

"Here." Chance drew his phone from his pocket and tossed it carelessly in my direction.

I fumbled and caught it by the tips of my fingers, raising my eyebrows. _Quite the upgrade. _"I thought the new iPhone was released in a couple of months?"

"It is. This is just a little… experiment."

Shelton peered over my shoulder. "What, from Apple? Can I get your contacts? This is _nice._"

"Processing power like you wouldn't believe," Chance said with a weak attempt at his old smooth smile, "but what will I use it for if I can't get hold of you?" There was even a wink at the end.

"Hint taken." I punched in my digits and went ahead, adding myself on Chance's iFollow while I was at it. No point being taken down by the same mistake that almost cost us jail time the first time round. If I'd known Chance was arriving home so early, we might never have even had to face off Hannah.

Or, as some girls had started calling her, Jailbird Girl. Not the most inventive of nicknames a year on from her arrest, but suitably derogatory for the calibre of the witches tossing it round.

I handed Chance's phone back. My mobile buzzed in my blazer pocket as he sent me his number.

"Pleasure doing business, Chance."

"See you soon, Virals."

I didn't need to hustle the boys away. They were all too happy to bolt ahead of me, although Ben did pause to cast a last glance (glare, really) at Chance. I pushed him to go.

I tried to smile. Chance met my gaze for a second before turning away to look out at the city. The door closed between us with a barely audible swish, and I was free to hurry after the boys.

Even before Ben pulled away from our parking spot further down the block, we were talking all over each other. Arguing, naturally.

"This is our one chance to find out more about what's going wrong with us!" My case. Not popular with the team.

"There might not be anything wrong with us!"

"You don't actually _believe_ that, Shelton?"

"We can't trust that motherf- " Ben was cut off by Hi's wailing, jerking the wheel a little in surprise. I glared at Ben for another second, then twisted round to see Hi, hands clamped over ears and making noises that were probably supposed to resemble the notes of a tune.

Shelton reached over and grabbed Hi's arm away from his ear, smacking the side of his head with the free hand. "Oi! You totally butchered the _Thrones _theme song. An awesome tune, _ruined._"

"You're looking at the next American Idol and you know it," Hi warbled. "And no more shouting! Play nice. We can pass round a Speaking Stick and take turns – although it might have to be a Speaking Stick of Gum. My last Gandalf staff got gnawed to sawdust by the wolfdog."

Shelton took one look at my expression and told Hi, "Shut up now."

"Thanks Shelton. We clearly aren't going to agree on everything yet, but there are a couple of things I think we should definitely investigate. It doesn't have to be in an illegal way!" I added, as the boys in the back groaned at the mention of 'investigation'. "I just mean – we can't ignore the two new Virals running around. They're clearly not a part of our pack, and we have no idea what all this could mean for our powers. As for what already _is _going wrong with our powers…"

We processed this for a moment, jolting as Ben almost ran a stoplight. He spoke up first. "Chance isn't the answer to all that." I opened my mouth to argue but Ben sent me a 'come on' look. "He is clearly _not_ trustworthy. The past clearly shows some sort of revenge plan coming, and he's been following you around the past week. He was at your kidnapping, or some_things _with the same eyes as him were. And he's either not owning up to it or doesn't know what went on. We can't – trust – him."

"Seconded."

"Thirded."

"Not a thing, Hi."

I mulled Ben's speech over as Shelton and Hi bickered like five-year-olds. He had a point. A very good point. Even if it had made little sense, I probably would have been biased towards listening properly, because when Ben spoke that much, I knew I needed to listen.

I glanced over at Ben. Despite the tense situation and the many problems that had suddenly been thrown on top of the Virals' to-sort pile – not to mention the face-off with Chance back there – he still seemed pretty relaxed. Shoulders looser than I'd seen them in a long time, like he'd shrugged off some tension and this new "situation" was nothing compared. Gaze constantly drawing back to the view of the estuary on his side. He wasn't even absentmindedly chewing the inside of his lip, an old habit.

As my gaze hovered there, I was unintentionally washed in the memory of my kissing him yesterday. Clearly obsessing about it for half the night wasn't enough.

That hadn't prepared me for the intensity of feeling when I remembered it just a couple of feet away from Ben.

He must have felt my scrutiny because he flicked his eyes my way and raised a brow, his grin widening into a sort of smirk. His own gaze dropped to my lips almost inadvertently.

_Damn. _I jerked my head around, trying to focus on Drum Island and the Cooper River. What had I been working out before?

There were snickers from the backseat but I didn't know if the boys had been paying attention to us. Heat rose into my neck, ears, cheeks. _Awkward. _I needed to change the topic, but no ideas came to mind.

Hi cleared his throat. "So I take it we need to do a little recon on this Azad person. If he's a Viral, and all. Aaand there's another thing we need to check out. That disease that Chance mentioned, which Susan said she had as a kid?"

"Isn't that the slapped-cheek syndrome thing? The human version of parvo? Well, the human version of parvo that people actually know about." I wasn't quite sure what I was saying. My thoughts were still a bit muddled. "Can't hurt to do a bit more research, though. We could go to the library at lunch. Ella's not in anyway."

"And for no other reason than research? Nobody you're maybe trying to avoid?" Hi asked a little too innocently.

I glared at him in the rearview mirror. "I've got a few fences to mend but nobody to avoid."

"Then what are fences for?"

"The idiom was not intended as a literal metaphor."

"_Guys._" Shelton's exasperated voice was out. "Can we please focus on the more pressing matter of what we're going to tell Paugh?"

"Why do we need to tell him any- oh _shit._"

I leaned forward to see past Ben. Sure enough, the demon headmaster himself was patrolling Bolton's gates and peering towards the Ford Explorer. I immediately threw myself forwards, head on knees, and frantically tried to scoop my hair to the right so he'd not notice the dead giveaway. There probably wasn't another redhead in Bolton, let alone one he was keeping tabs on for skiving.

In the back, Hi and Shelton did the same as me. I hissed at Ben to circle the block and he chuckled while obliging.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Sorry so much was set in about a half-hour period, it will move faster in a while. Also I am British so any Americanisms I've messed up (that aren't spelling) please let me know :) I would really appreciate reviews so I know what the audience thinks! Thank you so, so much to the lovely reviewers who have left me my first ever ten reviews on – oceansoul85, the anon, stormyskies73, viralsisamazing, Wilfred the pickle, Heslen, and virls101 you have been so lovely and encouraging!**

**Next time: hiding Simba, favours, lying to Jason.**


	3. 1 - 2

**2.**

We were back treading the hallways by halfway through fourth period. I opted to hide out in the ladies' room for twenty minutes rather than try to explain to Mr Edde why I'd missed more than half of his lesson. It would be Mission Impossible without a hall pass to help.

I would have been useless even if granted entrance; there were too many questions and half-formed plans running through my head.

Hi and Shelton were going to blag it back into class. After all, cover stories were Hi's speciality, and they hadn't skipped as many of their lessons last week. I waved them goodbye before turning in.

Picking a cubicle at random in the pink-painted room, I locked myself in and sat down on the toilet seat. Ignored the irony that I had been driven to being one of 'those girls' hiding from a whole host of boys. I dropped my head into my hands and pushed my fingers into the edges of my hair instead, trying to still my whirling mind.

Dangerous things first.

The whole Chance package… nope, it could wait, would have to wait. School was not a place where I wanted to get caught working out how to resolve the Claybourne bombshell, or research these Candela researchers. I could plan my arguments for the boys on _Hugo _this afternoon.

Not that I was even fully registering everything Chance had said yet. I was in lockdown mode, and would ignore until I had to face up.

Then another dangerous development: what was I going to do about Ben? That moment in the car had been… intense.

_More like intensely excruciating. _Hi and Shelton had almost certainly picked up. I couldn't let this become awkward. But that action plan also definitely shouldn't be worked out at school. One for later, at home.

Then most immediate – if least dangerous – boy-related problem. He of the fences. Jason was quite possibly suffering severe whiplash from my bipolar behaviour towards him last week, but hopefully would put it down to stress over the Zodiac kidnappings. Based on past experience, it was likely he wouldn't even remember last week.

I might have to explain my absence from English, though. _Feeling ill? _That worked. Just another lame excuse in a long line of them.

The thing was, Jason would eat it up, no moodiness or demands for other excuses. Possibly almost too gullible, but I had missed – was missing – the complications-free friendship with Jason. And I would appreciate the buffer against the rest of Bolton's snob body with Ella off. I wasn't so weak that I needed protection, but it might be nice not to have to fight tooth and nail next to the other two for once.

I could catch Jason outside of English, make my apologies, grab the work. We has separate assigned seats in chem; ever since Hannah had been sent down and the police checked our involvement with the school, the science faculty had taken it upon themselves to separate Jason and I. Perhaps they were worried any students joining us in group work would also go psycho on us.

The bell rang. I stood, emerged, slung my bag over a shoulder. Hannah seemed to be popping up everywhere today.

I headed to the hall and met my class trooping out. The Tripod were a few people away, and, impossibly, they were splitting up, Courtney and Maddy blowing kisses to Ashley like they wouldn't meet til the other side of a life sentence. Ugh.

Jason emerged from behind Ashley, however, bumping her designer mini-bag that might've paid for another peasant's Bolton education. She turned; I anticipated a fight, or at least an ocular stabbing.

Instead, she smiled, grabbing Jason's arm and pouting as he made to move off. They talked for a moment before he could pull away – nicely, of course – and Ashley sent eyelash-fluttering looks behind her as she went. That whole group was ridiculous.

I aimed for Jason. He grinned upon spotting me, pushing through the crowd with more vigour than before. He caught my elbow and I smiled guiltily.

"Hey stranger," he said, loud over the surrounding racket. "You okay? You missed a great quiz. And the assigned end-of-year mini-projects. How will you possibly know what's going on in class now?"

"Sorry Jase. I felt really sick," I pulled a face. "Guess it's all leftovers from last week."

We fell into step, moving towards the labs as the crowds thinned. "You better now? Ella could benefit from your company if you're too ill to enjoy mine and I'm not allowed you."

I grinned properly this time. "Yeah, all good. And I'm sorry about my weird behaviour over the last week. You've been amazing to put up with me, seriously."

"Anytime, Brennan. Plus you're gonna have to repay the favours sometime, right?" I laughed, almost colliding with Shelton as he lunged forwards out of nowhere. Then it was sidestepping Hi as he barrelled forwards, apparently trying to collar Shelton. I didn't make it, and ended up almost knocking into Jason.

Fortunately Bolton's lacrosse captain was nippy enough to avoid our dopey dominoes and steadied me instead. I smiled in thanks before heading towards my assigned seat at the back, almost missing a step as I thought over Jason's last comment. Frickity frick. I really did owe him one, didn't I? If I wanted to stay friends, anyway – which I did, whatever insinuations of inverse snobbery the others (okay, Ben) might give. Plus I could probably guess what form my debt repayment would take.

I would probably enjoy hanging out with Jason for more than thirty seconds between classes if it weren't for the numerous problems facing us right now. And the passive aggression when I asked for a lift. If only there were another way to get to Jason that wouldn't involve weeks of glares if my usual chauffeur even agreed. Who did I know that even _liked _Jason and owned wheels?

Wait.

I sat up straighter, struck by an unexpected answer. A blonde, bimbo answer.

"Brennan!"

I jerked, caught sight of Ms. Smart pointing her dreaded ruler at me from the front of the class. "Since you've been pondering the Avogadro Constant so deeply, would you care to share your opinion on the answer?"

"Er…" I had nothing. "Would you mind repeating the question, Ma'am?"

If she wasn't giving me an A on every paper I handed her, the response would've been a detention slip. As it was, Ms. Smart merely gave me a flattened look and repeated the question. "What is the number of particles per mole of any given substance?"

"Six point oh two times ten to the twenty-three."

"Units?"

"Moles to the negative one." Answers I did know. Some of the very few.

Ms. Smart nodded, satisfied, continued teaching. I resolved to pay full attention. I couldn't afford to miss school when I was here on top of when I was chasing Chance.

* * *

After school, I caught up to Hi outside Bolton's stone Simba. He was pulling off his inside-out jacket as slow as humanly possible, failing to interrupt the lecture from Headmaster Paugh.

God. He really was stalking us today.

I spotted Shelton hiding out behind the King of the Pridelands, beckoning me over, and swerved to join him before Paugh caught me too. Hi caught sight of me and sent a stink eye my way while nodding along to Paugh, but _I _wasn't about to defend his odd blazer habits.

"Why does he even bother?" Shelton chortled. "Paugh looks so pissed."

I poked my head under the stone mane to check, quickly withdrawing. "All the drama must be going to his head. Soon every day will be a new instalment of _Keeping Up With Stolowitski._"

"Don't give him any ideas."

Hi finally slid his blazer on the right way and was released with a last warning and glare for added measure. He nodded contritely before bowing as Shelton had once instructed us, then hurried away as the headmaster swelled like a foot. One that had lost a battle with a scorpion.

Hi grabbed us by the elbows and hustled us towards the dock. Shelton and I could barely keep our snickers muffled.

"You two can laugh all you want," Hi said loftily, "but the oppressed always become the masters eventually. One day, Paugh!" He shook his fist at the lions as we crossed the road.

"You sure your jacket is definitely the reason he pulled you over?" Shelton asked. "Not that it wasn't funny as hell – and don't tell my mother you're using her cultural heritage behaviours to irritate the school – but Paugh's always just carried on walking before."

That hadn't occurred to me. "Stalker Paugh strikes again. He ask you about this morning?"

Hi shook his head. "Doesn't mean he wasn't trying intimidation tactics though. Not that he can win on that one. I won't be silenced!" There was a dramatic thump of the chest. I rolled my eyes.

"There's more pressing matters than Paugh."

"But what could be more important than Potentially Pervy Paugh's oppression of my right to wear – okay, fine." Hi had clearly seen the look on my face.

Shelton glanced about nervously as we paused at a crossing. "Now really a good time, Tory?"

"Doesn't have to be loud enough for the street to hear. Although if we do happen to get a random flare-seizure at any point along here, I'm sure we'll be drawing a lot more attention to ourselves."

"Alright, alright. Do we have to do this without Ben?"

"I just want to work out all the things going wrong with us."

"Feels like a trip to the doctor's." Hi managed to duck the stinger I sent his way. "Huh. I'm getting better at that."

"Practice makes perfect," Shelton told him.

"Nearly all my flares in the last week have knocked me flat. I'm getting weird mental connections from Chance. There's some other weird mental connection stuff going on without a proper pattern yet. At least we're able to join minds again, and know why it went wrong last time."

"Wait, how?" I looked up from the pavement to Hi. He wasn't joking.

"Didn't Ben tell you?" I hadn't thought he'd keep things from the pack. We didn't do that.

Okay, we _tried_ not to do that. I mostly failed.

The other two shook their heads. "Oh – he said he though he'd been blocking us out on some level. Blocking me out. So we couldn't join minds again until he let the unity happen."

"So you don't automatically have access to our heads anymore?"

"I never did," I reminded Shelton.

"Felt like it," Hi muttered. "Teenage psychics. Not so cool when you're the one who's being invaded."

"Other problems include trusting Chance, the strange eyes at my almost-kidnapping, Chance's scientists, and why this Susan person managed to escape the disease."

"We can't find out about the scientists with only first names to go on." Shelton had a point. "And we already covered that last one. Lunch. That time we found nada useful information."

True. There were mostly just lists of symptoms. Even if we had found some incredible nugget of research on how to cure the virus, we wouldn't have been able to put theory into practice. Not unless we had a pharmaceutical company on our side. Like, for example, the drug giant Candela.

_Everything leads back to Chance. _So how could I convince them to trust him?

"Fine." I dismissed the topic for now. "We can talk with Ben on iFollow."

The boys looked relieved. Moved on to talking about Mystique from X-men.

I didn't listen. There was enough going on in my head to sort out as it was.

* * *

**A/N: sorry it's a little filler-y, I accidentally made the first draft rather long and when rewriting made it even longer, so the events have been split into two chapters. Sorry! But I do have quite a few prewrittens at the moment, so in this oasis of post-exam pre-school return on Monday, I am writing as much as possible, and updates will be good! Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews you guys, it makes me so happy to read them all. (Viralsisamazing – "Simba" as in, the stone lion they were hiding behind ;) )**

**Next chapter will be good, though: jealousy, crust competitions, and Hi's guilt crisps.**


	4. 1 - 3

**3.**

Tuesday night. I checked my watch and shovelled a last mouthful of venison sausage casserole before jumping up. From beneath the table, Cooper did too. Whitney's delicious main was completed with broccoli, asparagus and juniper flavouring but had taken longer than I'd anticipated; the planned Virals conference would start without me if I wasn't careful.

"Do you mind if I go talk to Ella?" I interrupted. "We've scheduled."

Kit sent me a warning frown as Whitney broke off in the middle of her continuous prattle about the opponents for her Pride of Charleston pie competition this year. She closed her pinked-up mouth and dabbed with a napkin. I paused for the verdict. Probably should have been more tactful. They didn't know how important this meeting was.

Before the tension could break, Kit intervened. "Hey cub. Could you not text her to explain we're in the middle of our family meal? Whitney's been practicing her pear and pecan pie so there's a good pudding we need to taste-test for her."

Said pie-baker smiled at my dad and laid her hand on his. He smiled back, then fixed me with a stare that left no room for excuses.

I needed him in a good mood if I wanted to start creeping out to Cole anytime soon. And I needed him to not worry about me and try to talk to Whitney about it, lest she bring up the incident last week of my 'meeting Jason' late at night. Combined with our LIRI break-in last week, they would surely dust off the parental punishments.

I didn't have a choice.

I swallowed my screams, nodded a fake smile to Whitney, and sat down again. Fired a super-fast text to the other three before pushing my phone back into my pocket.

The bimbo resumed the one-sided conversation, but not about crust this time. Unfortunately. "I am so excited about your first event this Saturday, Victoria. Have you and your friend discussed what you'll be wearing yet? Or was that what you were going to talk about? Because really," she sipped at the Cava, "Augusta Francis has the most delicious sense of conservative style, but you might not want to go for that angle for your first outfits this weekend. Are you lookin' forward to Saturday?"

"Um." My brain was straining to play catch-up. "My first event for the Mag League is this weekend?"

"Why, of course! Don't tell me you forgot?"

"No, I just… thought it was the Saturday after. Because I'm really looking forward to the…"

"Yes, of course." Whitney was all beams again. "The Finishing events at your chapter meetings are such fun. But you can't go forgettin' these charity days either. The Mount Pleasant food bank would be positively _sunk _without the help of the lovely Mag League ladies."

"A worthy cause," I managed, scooping up the last of my gravy and picking out the juniper berries.

"_Exactly,_ and you simply _must _co-ordinate outfits with Ella if she's to enter society again at the weekend."

Kit saw me stiffen. Quickly tried to smooth it over. "That'd be great, wouldn't it Tory? You could have her over on Friday night, for whatever you girls get up to, if you want?" He scratched behind his ear, looking uncomfortable as hell.

I took the olive branch and a deep breath. "Thanks, Kit. Sounds great. I'll ask her."

"I'll bring home a selection of dresses for you both to try on," Whitney promised. "It sounds like such fun!"

The mention of 'home' did not escape me. Coop growled, pressing himself up against my legs.

I concentrated on the blackmail material Whitney was holding over me.

"Who's for pudding?"

Twenty minutes of teeth-gritting later and I leapt into my desk chair, spinning around as Cooper threw himself up at me too. His slobbery tongue licked my face enthusiastically, causing me to laugh while blindly waking up my mac. It was already on iFollow, so I clicked onto the live video with the boys between doggie kisses.

As various snarky greetings filled my ears, I pushed the wolfdog off me and turned to the other three properly. "Hey, sorry I'm late. Whitney's casserole overran and she kept wittering on about the Mag League." My Cooper-generated smile faded at the serious expressions of the boys, but I tried for a playful tone anyway. "Nice of you to show, Ben. What was with the disconnection yesterday?"

He didn't smile back. "My mom needed some help up at the hospital."

"But – "

"They cut your wages if you're seen on your phone."

I nodded, wary now. The sudden moodiness in itself had me on edge, but money was also a tricky topic. It operated on the same policy as the senior Blues' family status: don't ask, don't tell.

We hadn't been able to get hold of Ben yesterday except for a single text saying today was good, Monday not so. The cut-off had sent me doolally, frustrated at our dead-end for Candela. But Ben must've been up at the hospital for hours and hours.

"Alright," I tried cautiously, "well we're all here now. So. Why don't you want to accept the help from Chance when we clearly need it?" The gauntlet was thrown down. _Yeah, don't beat about the bush, Tory. _"How else can we learn why we're passing out nearly every time we flare? Why I keep getting this _stupid _mental connection to Chance? And… my other mind-touching stuff."

Granted, that was – as far as I could see – only once. But it didn't mean that we weren't all scared as hell about it.

I massaged my forehead. Another of the strange Chance-related feelings had returned over lunch today, too. Knowing why they were happening wasn't stopping them driving me nuts.

"He's a liar. A near-murderer many times over." Ben leaned forward to cut off my protests. "He's shot at us. His company created the disease that you're now trying to figure out."

"All the more reason to go to them. They have more knowledge than we do. And Chance has saved our lives before, we've saved his. We _owe _him."

"What, we owe _him_ the ability to research _us? _He's clearly been insane if he isn't still now. Not to bring family issues into Chance's messed up criminal CV, but his father and girlfriend are both in jail for murder. We have no reason to trust him."

"We don't have to trust him," I exclaimed, "we just have to have enough on each other for a mutual non-betrayal. And we have more than enough to bring Chance down with Candela. Plus, he needs our help. An exchange of services."

"Why bother? He could easily sell us out without bringing the company into it, and we managed our powers just fine without anyone to hold _our _hands. He doesn't really need us. He is an unstable liar," Ben spoke louder over the top of me, "who is not above manipulating each of us to get what he wants."

I glowered, gathering my argument. Shelton and Hi remained silent, uneasily watching the battle.

"Can we please not focus on what Chance did in the past but on who he is now," I fired. "The courts have said he's clean. I trust that."

Ben shook his head. It stung not having him on my side. Probably a taste of my own medicine, but I didn't get why he was so angry. The last time we'd argued so badly was when we were still mad at each other for betrayals/non-forgiveness last week. That wasn't a problem now – or at least, shouldn't have been.

"He hasn't done anything to earn that trust," Ben pointed out, surly and verging on heated. _Jealous? If he is, why? _"And he still hasn't produced any evidence for those eyes at your kidnapping."

That was a solid enough piece of evidence, the strongest part of Ben's argument so far. Why had he focused on the past for so long, then?

I frowned at the screen, watching him sit back, arms crossed, jaw set. Diagonally across the screen from Ben's segment, Hi kept concentrating on his keyboard. Then flicking his eyes quickly up at the screen, then back down. What was that about?

He flicked his eyes again. They kept moving top-right, then away into his room, then down to the keyboard. Top-right was my segment, if he was looking at the screen and flipped in the camera.

Data bytes in my brain connected. Hi seemed guilty, what with all that nervousness. It wasn't just anxiety over the situation, because Shelton wasn't doing the same, although he seemed plenty nervous about the tightrope we were walking already. Then Ben seemed especially mad. And why was he bringing up all Chance's past crimes against us from the Katherine Heaton period?

Ben angry, Hi guilty, Chance manipulating…

_Double damn._

I shot to my feet. "Hiram Stolowitski!"

He hit the deck, disappearing off-screen with a thud and a whimper. I planted my hands on the desk.

"Come out, Stolowitski, or so help me I will come over and drag you out myself!"

Hi whimpered and poked the top of his head above the desk so his forehead was visible. I heard the plastic crackle of his guilt crisps. Probably BBQ Doritoes.

"He's not making it up, then?" Shelton looked disgusted and uneasy. A single glance at Ben's expression showed him murderous.

"Not if he spilt what I think he did."

"You kissed Claybourne last year." Ben sounded emotionless, flat, but he looked far from it. I frowned at his quarter on the screen.

"If you want specifics, then no, _he_ basically buzzed _my…_ cheek." I had basically forgotten that until now. But I was blushing from having to explain this. Anything to stop Ben cutting me out. "And it was all manipulation as I tried to work out why we were being shot."

He snorted. "Trying really hard."

"We didn't die, I worked it out in time! And do I still look naïve and stupid and able to be _manipulated _to you?" I may have been bright red, but I was now seething too.

"That depends. Are you still fighting for us to trust Chance or not?"

_Damn it, Ben. _I sat back and blew out a breath, trying to calm. I needed to consider carefully. Not scream at the boys.

Really, I no longer had a choice. I couldn't talk them around tonight. And maybe I should have remembered Hi's existing blackmail on me.

Too many people had stuff on me. I was going to have to be more careful.

"Fine. We don't trust Chance until he produces evidence about the eyes at the beach, his maybe-pack. Deal?"

I checked each of the boys. What I could see of Hi, then Shelton, and finally Ben nodded at me slowly, if curtly in Ben's case.

Enough drama for one evening. I shut off iFollow and flopped onto the bed, defeated.

The past was really catching up to me today.

* * *

**A/N: ahhh! Hope you guys liked. Or disliked. Had some sort of reaction. That's all I'm aiming for :P Tell me in a review?**

**Y'know I wrote the first seven chapters or so in a notebook on holiday, and this is part of me typing them up/editing in time for JulNoWriMo (where this will probably be my main focus whee), but before I started the editing process I made about twenty chapter images. Not particularly good art, but I did spend time choosing the characters and whatnot. I didn't realise the this website actually blocks them! So I'm working on hosting them somewhere and putting the link up in my bio for anyone interested. No go so far.**

**Also, I've very nearly finished the notebook draft of the first part of the story! Next time: Candela contacting, forced fainting, telepathic memories.**


	5. 1 - 4

**4.**

Thursday morning. Skimming across Charleston Bay towards the harbour. The day was cooking up an April storm, something I was grateful for after the extra-hot dryness of the past week. Our boat trips yesterday had consisted of Hi googling incidences of human testing gone wrong to scare the shit out of Shelton and prove a point to me.

They had taken Ben's side. Unquestioningly.

This was one time I was unable to force the boys to follow me. To give ourselves up for lab testing was the ultimate fear.

It didn't help that Ben was now hardly talking to me. The irony of our reversed positions from this time last week was not escaping me. We had been getting along so well again – almost too well – and it was now thrown back in my face. Because of one past omission. The déjà vu of that situation was also haunting me.

Ella was still home but had sent the soccer training schedule to us all over iFollow. That app was a life-saver; organisation was not, as such, a Lady Griffins' Soccer Team speciality. However, she had been enthusiastic about Kit's idea (I sold it as mine) to come over on Friday, although probably not to discuss what Whitney wanted us to. She was burning through Netflix series like fire in dry scrub.

Meanwhile, I could feel a stinking headache coming on. There was no question of using a flare to help. They were dangerous enough in public, and with the recent zonkouts? No thanks.

Definitely better to stick to Paracetamol. I popped a couple as we stood to disembark _Hugo. _Hi and Shelton were right ahead, discussing the latest _Game of Thrones _ep all along the marina. Only a trace of unease was in their behaviour toward me since Tuesday night.

The only two kisses of my life and Hi had seen them both. I wouldn't have put it past him to be vlogging about the sudden teenage drama each evening.

We were finally turning off he harbour when my vision cut out for a second.

I stumbled, continued walking. _Whoops. _

Then my body seized up.

I hit the pavement, schoolbag taking down a café chair. My nerves were screaming, pain shooting through me, all muscles clenched and refusing to let go.

Some switch flicked off completely in my brain and all sensory input was replaced with pain. Deep, thrumming, winding my insides into a coil of white-hot madness. Hands were laid on me but they simply drove the blinding, blanketing pain in further –

Somewhere deep in my unconsciousness, beneath all the layers of pain, I somehow sensed a presence. Someone was in my head, taking control of my body and burning it. They now tried to force into the flaming cords, which connected my whole body to the other minds now.

I tried to regain willpower, pin down the presence, but the pain masked them brutally. I had only one weapon left as the pressure increased.

_**GET OUT OF ME!**_

For a moment, there was a great clamp over my body and mind: the final display of fireworks, the last supernova in a line of collapsing stars.

Then a small _snup, _and it all cut out.

My body flopped back, all muscles sighing in relief as I gasped and panted. I felt physically in shock. Then the sensory deprivation slowly faded; a babble of voices encircled me, the smell of baked paving stone wafted up, and my scraped elbows began formally protesting against my now-sticky shirt sleeves.

_Oh no._

I needed to get rid of people ASAP.

So I forced my eyes open and carefully propped myself up. Hi and Shelton were kneeling either side of me, looking mighty relieved I wasn't dead. Shelton was still rubbing his forehead. Clearly my message had gotten through.

"You okay?" I nodded painfully at Hi. He poofed out air. "Way to scare us, TB."

I couldn't respond properly in front of the gaggle of locals, and tried to nod and smile in thanks for their concern as they dispersed, leaving me to heave myself into a sitting position.

"What the hell was that?" I croaked. Like the boys had an answer.

"Let's just get to school." Shelton's eyes were darting, checking for ninja warriors about to leap out and pop us with a crowbar. "It's not Chance, right? He's the one making your… psychic stuff mess up."

"It didn't feel like our playboy," I said as Hi hauled me up. I brushed off my skirt, noting a couple of girls in the year above sniggering from across the street. I gave a sarcastically friendly wave and leant on a shoulder from each boy as the ground tipped sickeningly. My stomach felt like it would empty any second. There had definitely been a herd of elephants flash-mobbing salsa dances in my brain.

Ugh. The last time I had felt this bad?

I searched for the answer and the mud of my thoughts eventually thinned to let me focus. It was… when… when I'd accidentally poked about in Madison's brain.

Something to file for later.

Shelton tugged my left arm more firmly around his shoulders and motioned for Hi to do so with my right. He checked my face and obeyed, snagging my bag as we moved off.

"If it wasn't Chance, then who was it?" Shelton continued.

"What other enemies do we have?" Hi muttered.

"They hid themselves – pretty well," I grunted. My body was still jellified. "Feels crap though. Like when I, um, invaded Madison's mental space."

"With any luck, the perp felt your mental sledgehammer too and scrammed," Hi suggested, looking cheered at the prospect.

Shelton and I both snorted. "Yeah right."

"Unlikely!"

"Hey, we might have got a non-psycho after us this time. Don't mess my chi with your negative vibes."

I just shook my head and concentrated on bringing strength and sensation back to my legs.

I managed to approach Bolton and get up the main steps okay. After that, I had to use Hi and Shelton as my human crutches to reach my locker. At least when there I could casually lean an elbow in and take thirty. Terenzoni wouldn't be pleased if I missed calc because of something as trivial as losing consciousness.

It transpired that I had unexpected help: when I turned into my locker hall, we found Jason casually lingering. Again. He grinned when he saw me, quickly switched to over-concerned.

"Gosh Tory, you okay? What happened?"

"Fainting attack. Down by the marina." I grimaced. "My two knights in shining armour were around to carry me here, though."

"At your service, my lady." Hi bowed with an over-the-top flourish.

"We could hire you a motorised scooter next time," Shelton suggested. "Although you've possible been Hiram's workout for the week."

"Too right, brah." Hi flexed his biceps pathetically. "Ladies love guns like these."

"Send some of your adoring fans my way sometime, eh?" Jason laughed. "Let me give you a rest from carrying the damsel in distress. Tory?"

I waved him off, trying to subtly rest more weight in my open locker. "Don't worry about me. You need to get to US History."

"I can't leave you like this. Would you prefer to go bridal or debutante style?"

I managed to avoid pulling a face and swallowed my pride. "Deb style, thanks." I took his proffered arm, Jason tactfully walking as though I wasn't putting almost my entire body weight onto him.

The Tripod passed us, slotting away their metallic make-up bags from a first-thing powder session. Courtney noticed us, elbowing the other two, who promptly stared at our strange formation. I ignored them as best I could.

_Remember what Ella said. Head held high._

Jason had obviously seen their stares. "Are Maddy's lot leaving you alone now? I mean, I know your new reputation has had a bit of an impact on them, just like the rest of us around here." He smiled to show it wasn't meant badly.

I felt uneasy. Tried to brush it off. "Not much stranger than usual. Ashley tried to start a conversation about the Mag League with me yesterday. I think I nearly fell over in shock."

"You've joined too? Or rather," he added playfully from my disgusted expression, "forced into it, then?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Madison told me about it during English on Monday. Not that you'd know, you big skiver." He nudged my shoulder. "Although she did ask me about you too. Weird stuff. I didn't realise your standing up to her last July would make her stalk you."

_Me neither, Jase. _"She was asking about me?" I said it too loudly; Hi and Shelton sent me weird looks from a few paces behind. "What did she say?"

"Just like, did you ever act really weirdly or wear sunglasses when it wasn't sunny. Or use curse words then know what I was thinking. I don't know, they were pretty creepy questions, but we _were _doing the last section of our _Paradise Lost _passage. Milton turns us all loopy, right?"

I tried to laugh it off as my brain tried to process this worrying new info. "I guess. But why would she ask you about me?"

"Jealousy?"

I avoided looking at Jason, just nodding. I was suddenly very aware of how I was hanging off his arm in a couple-y way. Fortunately we were almost at Calc; I unlatched and waved, disappearing inside as second bell rang, the conversation left hanging. Dumped my bag on Ella's empty chair and collapsed into mine.

Why wouldn't Maddy just leave it alone?

Ten minutes towards the end of Spanish – which I was spectacularly behind in, following my many absences last week and my failure to catch up over the weekend – my phone buzzed twice in my jacket pocket.

I stiffened. Texting wasn't looked on kindly by Señor Messi. Good thing he was halfway through a long-winded explanation about speech fillers.

The temptation to slip my phone out and check was overwhelming. I resisted. Messi was known and hated for handing out detentions. Doing time wouldn't help my plan of snoozing all the way home achieve fruition.

Freed for AP Bio, I could check. Not Ben, as I'd expected. Clearly the anger overrode his desire to know what the hell had happened this morning. _Not _a favourable portent.

IMESSAGE: CHANCE CLAYBOURNE

My eyebrows rose. I unlocked.

**I've made several discoveries of interest. Meet me later. 4pm, Candela's back gate. Feel free to bring the boys and the boat. Xxx**

What discoveries? Chance had my curiosity snared immediately. I would go if I had to steal _Sewee _and drive her myself. What on earth couldn't be told over text?

**I'll gather the pack **– wait, no. I backspaced.

**I'll gather the boys if possible. Don't hold your breath. Or do. **There had been enough bouncing around of kisses for Chance Claybourne.

I fired a text to the Virals. Shelton and Hi replied immediately. I reckoned they had some input in Ben's curt but affirmative response just before the lesson began. Whatever it took to get us in the discussion stages about our powers again. I was still weak and shaky from this morning's knockout and not keen for a repetition. The only way I could help us now was through science – pharmaceutical testing and conclusion.

* * *

Ben idled outside Bolton as we headed for the Ford Explorer. 3pm sharp. It would take a good forty minutes to get from downtown to Morris, where _Sewee _was tied up. Then hopefully only twenty minutes to Cole. Chance probably wouldn't be particularly happy or forgiving if we turned up at the back door of his secure drug-testing facility late. But I knew better than to say anything to Ben, sliding into the back after Hi.

We'd already told Tom we weren't ferrying home but Ben still pretended to text for a moment as a couple of prejudiced nitwits went by pointing out 'That Gamemaster Psycho's Accomplice'. Relations didn't become any less tense on the drive, or the boat trip. I was coiled tighter than a spring by the time Cole faded into view.

The bobbing motion of the waves calmed my blood a little, but did nothing to ease the general drowsiness since this morning. The sea had always been able to cure my fevered mind, a catalyst for breaking up the big substrate of tangled problems into manageable packages. It was a relief too to be back in _Sewee, _which had been avoided so well in the last months. And which I was now so eager to leave behind for our easy routine again.

Hi and Shelton did their best to bridge the gap. God knew they'd had a lot of practice by now. I wasn't going to apologise to Ben for something I had no active part in, though. It was a year ago – a result of Chance's manipulation. I could compare myself now to Ben, in being an instrument of an evil thing I'd thought was working for good. I was also aware of how my consistent blame of Chance only kept him as untrustworthy in the others' books.

I did, however, apologise for the morning's mental screaming, as we moored up in Cole Creek. Hi brought the topic up as we jumped into the surf to push _Sewee _in. I didn't add much.

Yes, Ben had felt it. He'd almost crashed his car. And no, he hadn't freaked out. He'd just assumed it was another of my 'mind issues'.

That, at least, pushed me into confrontation.

"Since when were you so heartless about our _sensitive _condition, Benjamin? My – " air-quote " 'psychic abilities'? This is _dangerous._"

I beat Hi to helping pull _Sewee_'s nose. Call it the stupid instinct to get in anyone's face I was irritated and angry with. This tactic clearly worked on Ben, who turned to lock narrowed eyes with me.

"You've always done stupid things. Liked dangerous things. Maybe this was just another incident of you letting someone take advantage of a mental weakness of yours."

I almost socked him in the face. The only reason I didn't was that I knew I'd be proving Ben's point right.

He could read my fury and smirked. _Smirked._

My eye twitched. I unfocused for a minute, refusing the temptation to close my eyes while I fought the flare snapping to burst free. It would only knock me out again if this morning was any indication, and two KOs in one day might scupper this discussion with Chance. _Breathe._

I dropped my half of _Sewee _and marched up the tiny beach towards the marsh path. Ben shouted, "that's it, Victoria, just run away from your problems, just like always."

That was it. The moment my flare smashed free, chains broken with a **SNAP**, the wolf snarling and claiming control of me. Powerful, painful shudders fled through my body as I wheeled to face Ben, so strong and wild I almost bit dirt again. Senses were pulling me in a thousand different directions, my mind skittering everywhere and refusing to gain focus anywhere. It felt like a time when I was small, and the realisation brought me up short, still burning.

Mom had been trying to get me to go to kindergarten the day after I'd accidentally spilled paint on Marcie Davis' beautiful dress. I had hung on the door, desperately hooking my hands and feet around the frame. For a moment, it was a struggle between me and her, the door and Mom, before she tugged me away. Of course, she had won.

As the memory washed over me – more physically than memories without a flare – I could have sworn I saw her for a moment. Auburn hair tangling, holding out her other hand for me to take. I stumbled forward a step.

Except there wasn't anybody there. I was seeing untrue things, mere visualisations from my mind, 'wishful thinking'. Just like when I first came to Charleston, and Mom was around every corner, in every crowd.

"Tory?" I jerked my head to the boys. Everyone looked a little freaked, but it was Hi who asked.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt the switch of awareness that told me I had connected to my Pack even in their non-flare. I didn't know if they had seen her too as a message sent by me.

I didn't want to know.

But as I tried to recoil inwards – pull my mind back to me – it snapped too fast. My psyche was untethered, terrifyingly floating above all four of us. Close at first, then dragging free – a balloon only loosely tethered. Somewhere, a part of me remembered Coop biting me last time. He was howling somewhere now, but that sound was dissolving with the wind.

The group of people on the ground were getting smaller and smaller, like an opposite of when I'd first worked out there was a body on Loggerhead. A year ago, a lifetime ago, a species ago.

The cord tethering me to the body down there began to shudder and shake, straining for eternal untethering.

For one dreamy second, I wanted it to snap.

_WHACK!_

The slap's force catapulted me forwards, back to my body with a bang. I gasped wildly, a shuddering breath with all of my body as I brought myself back together, all that flare strength either expelling around me or turning inwards. Sounds and sights filled my ears and eyes in a dizzy whirl. My body tensed then relaxed as my awareness settled back in.

Slowly, I moved from my bent-over position to standing upright again. Focused on the person in front of me. Ben. Right.

Nope.

I turned and vomited onto the sand, almost falling over but for Ben grabbing my shoulder. Then I turned away again, shivering. Shelton passed me a water bottle from the boat. I shifted slightly, trying to feel at one again. It didn't particularly work.

"That was scary shit, Tor," Hi said at last. "What happened?"

I shook my head. Couldn't deal now. "Ben got me just in time. Just like that time last week, except Coop wasn't here this time, and I could see a lot more. Thanks, by the way."

"No problemo." Ben, along with the other two, was eying me strangely. I didn't blame them.

Didn't mean I wanted to talk about it, either. I pulled myself up straighter. "We're going to be late. Let's go."

I didn't give the chance for a reply but pushed on towards the main road at the end of the path.

* * *

**A/N: ahhh creepy stuff! I love it. So scary. Although I hope it wasn't too over-the-top. Let me know in a review? Plus this was quite a long chapter. You're welcome ;)**

**If you're interested, I've made a playlist for this whole story on 8tracks, "feeding on fever", by markofathena. It's immensely awesome for writing to, and while some songs might seem a little pointless or not obvious now, I promise they fit into the plot as a whole. Also every song on there has more than one meaning, because I like my playlists to be adaptable ;) And I'm still tweaking and fine-tuning.**

**Next time: threatening Chance, criminal plans, and K Gruber.**


	6. 1 - 5

**5.**

We marched along Cole Island's single road for ten minutes before turning off at the rock formation Chance had instructed. The dirt track was wide enough for a single vehicle at a time, surprisingly overtaken by clumps of salt marsh cord grass at the fringes. Somewhere at our backs, the Atlantic glittered under the ruthless sun. Our thick woollen blazers would not have been Bear Grylls-approved; my sweat glands were straining, my already-weak state only exacerbated by what was rapidly becoming an endurance test.

Candela's great white structures jutted out against the river beyond. I wasn't quite sure which river, and didn't particularly want to ask Ben. The buildings stuck out enough, like the giant fist of Hollis Claybourne stamping down on nature. And as Ben had so nicely reminded me two days ago, this was now the property of the heir of the man who had caused our condition.

Thus, it probably held answers.

But as I swallowed, looking up at the great box structure surrounded by smaller buildings – of only two or three stories to the flagship's six – that fact did not inspire trust in me. Maybe Ben was right after all. Why should Candela treat as anything else but another aspect of nature to crush?

We continued along the track until it ended by the chain-link fence. It was at least eight foot, if not ten. I tried to concentrate on the figure beneath instead. Chance was waiting here, as promised. And swanky as ever. The illusion of control was difficult to see through.

"Good afternoon, Victoria." Chance nodded at the boys. "And pack. If you want to come inside, the charming structure to your left is the current house of Project Brimstone."

We all looked to where he gestured. A squat box just like the rest of them. Only a couple of small windows, tinted glass. It looked like a prison or a horror psychiatric facility.

_We're just going to his office. No reason to freak._

I was saved from forcing a 'yes' by Ben. "If it's all the same to you, Claybourne, we'll stay out here to discuss."

Chance's left eye twitched, not controlled in time. He carefully rolled up each sleeve of his sleek Italian shirt – which was clean, if the rest of his attire looked just as through-the-mill before. In a measuredly careless way: "if you'd prefer, Benjamin."

That was the second person calling Ben his full name in twenty minutes. I didn't imagine it would go down well.

But Ben didn't react beyond tensed shoulders and a nod.

Cue Tory. "Let's cut to the chase, Chance. What have you discovered?"

He sent me a strange look. "Do you smell of _sick, _Tory? What – "

"Nothing important." I bared my teeth in a humourless smile. Chance raised an elegant brow and dropped it again with a shrug.

"Alright. I've solved the mystery."

"If you're here to play mind games, don't bother," Shelton snapped. I was surprised he was so vocal, but maybe the tension from Ben and I was getting to him. Or maybe he was just fed up of the stupid games Chance liked to play.

I damn sure was.

"The mystery of Tory's kidnapping eyes," Chance clarified, unruffled. "It turns out that two and a half weeks ago, there was an intrusion at Candela. Somehow, they cut our security tapes for exactly an hour so there were no obvious number jumps. They broke in and our test subjects for Brimstone was released.

"Test subjects?" I inquired mildly. Behind me, Hi whistled.

"Two Alsations and a Collie." Chance hadn't picked up on my feelings the way my pack had. "We tried a different form of parvovirus B-19 structure on each."

"So there might be an animal-rights criminal running around with your version of Parvo? Another Viral, except a criminal mastermind?" Hi snorted. "Nice going. Maybe you should take over from Hudson as Security Chief at LIRI?"

Hi actually had a good point. What if this criminal was the creepy puppetmaster of this morning? I dreaded being under another Gamemaster-like psycho's orders.

Yet again another mystery we couldn't answer now.

"You were experimenting on dogs." I folded my arms. "Where from?"

"The pound. Last day before the chop. Surely you'd prefer that the poor beasts could live happy and pampered and injected occasionally by their human playmates than be mercilessly killed?"

"Cruelty does not excuse cruelty." I wasn't sure I believed him.

"Well they're liberated now." Chance spread his hands. "No more of your so-called cruelty. And lucky for you and me, they were well past the infectious stage. Although they are part of my pack, I – I think."

I tilted my chin up, deciding. "Can you feel them in my mind?"

"Can I what?" Chance sent me a strange look, almost amused. I tried not to get irritated at his stupid façade even now.

"One of you in the pack will be able to sense the presence of others and bring them together. Maybe meld vision and senses when flaring." There was no question of who in _my _pack that was.

Chance nodded and rubbed his chin. "How do you do it, then? Any quick tests to determine who it is – an IQ test, or just whoever has the most pushiness?"

"I don't know." There were a lot of things that could set me apart from the boys if we wanted to dwell on it, but I didn't. "It won't work properly when you're separated anyway."

Behind me, Hi snorted. He seemed to realise what he'd done a moment too late, possibly the second that Ben's hand shot out to whack his dome. Chance's Classic brow rose.

"Really, Victoria? Or are we back to lying to each other?"

I sighed. "This morning, somebody crash-landed into my mind and I ended screaming at them to get them out, but everyone else heard too. Just that once, though. I need to do some experimenting." Shelton, Ben and Hi all groaned from behind me.

"Screaming?" Chance asked, fixing me with a stare.

"Mentally."

"Ah. If it had been out loud, it might have been a full repeat of that time Madison thought you'd possessed her. What a strange lunch _that _was."

"Hey, you don't laying into Tory? 'Cause I thought you had some test subjects to find," Ben positively growled, stepping forward. I put my hand on his arm.

Chance switched the hard stare to Ben, his expression contorting. "Why so protective? Going to start threatening me next?"

"I think Tory has that covered. I don't warn – "

"Just remember," Chance bit out, shoving his nose close to Ben's, "whose private land you're standing on."

Ben would probably have socked Chance if I hadn't moved between them, trying to push them apart. "Hey, let's not do this now. Chance, find those dogs using your flare. You'll be able to sniff them out. Ben, quit being a meathead."

Chance nodded. Ben glowered. "We're staying away til you fund the mutts, Claybourne."

"All of you?"

I wasn't sure if that was a veiled plea to me, but I had to take Ben's side or we'd never enter that squat Brimstone building. "Yes Chance."

I moved closer, placing a hand on his arm hesitantly. "It's dangerous just being a Viral in our pac, let alone with some more Viral dogs running around. Find them. _Please._"

"No dogs, no deal. Or if you prefer, no bow-wow, no business." Hi rolled his shoulders. "Y'know, it's awful hot out here. No shade. You got any secret ice-cream stashes up there in all them tub-shaped houses?"

"I've got a new form of your Parvo and that's my final offer." Chance quirked up the corner of his mouth. "Can I still eat chocolate or is that now off-limits?"

"No sickness for us," I confirmed. "But were all the security cameras definitely off? Absolutely no footage of the person, even all in black, or a shadow?"

"Radio blank. I'll text you when I find something." Chance raised a hand to dismiss us. "Till net time, children."

I felt Ben tense up beside me but I didn't rise to the bait. "Sweet searching, Chance." Then I turned on my heel and started back the way we'd come. The pack followed.

We walked for a few moments in silence. Egrets and waders moved away from the pools near us, muskrats and swamp rabbits skipping away from the track. The path was cracked from so long in the sun.

Eventually, Hi called out from the back, "No, Tory."

I called over my shoulder, "You haven't heard anything yet!"

"I don't need to. I already don't like it."

Shelton groaned. "A plan, already. Really?"

"Tory's always got a plan," Ben replied.

I grinned despite myself. "You'll love it. And there won't be armed gunmen."

"That's what you always say." Shelton sounded more resigned than angry. I always did manage to convince them for our investigations, even if only because Ben or Hi got as damn curious about mysteries as me. "You almost ended up dead on Sunday and you're already chasing ghosts again?"

"You've actually overestimated me this time."

Shelton huffed but didn't reply. Hi theatrically whispered, "don't give her any ideas.:

I waited until we were all aboard _Sewee _before divulging my plan. It was really more of an instruction for research. And the boys soon agreed it wasn't a bad idea.

We needed to know who might have broken in – if anyone really had. Ben was quick to point out that since there was no footage or proof other than Chance's word, it might all be BS.

Which was true, but I still wanted to find out as much as we could without Chance. We couldn't let escaped Virals roam randomly, whether they were freed by an infiltrator or not. My primary suspects were people living on Cole, since there were certainly non-Candela buildings there on google maps. They were as good a starting point as any.

Hi had snarked, Ben steered the boat indifferently, Shelton used his iPhone to search the phone books online for registered inhabitants of Cole.

"Doesn't mean that this is everyone living here, though," Shelton warned. "They might not have phones or be registered as living there."

"Well if we investigate suspicious inhabitants first, we might get info that helps us find the more reclusive inhabitants."

"Or ex-directory."

"Yes, thanks Hi."

"Aha!" Shelton's 3G had finally produced something. "Only one registered inhabitant. Makes it easier for us. A Mr K Gruber. Lives just off the road."

"Who'd want to live on Cole with Candela sitting over you?" Hi mused.

I shrugged. "Who'd want to live on Morris with no access anywhere?"

"We have Ben, and Mr Blue."

"You get my point."

Hi nodded. I grinned round at everyone. "What're your plans for tomorrow?"

As it turned out, _I _was the one with plans for Friday night. Except I remembered only when I was in bed seven hours later.

_Idiot!_

Would Ella mind? I could probably persuade her to come on a random jaunt to Cole for snoop around K Gruber's house. The pack could take it in turns to distract her from the legally dubious side. Then we'd be home for dress-up by teatime, just as Whitney would like. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

It was, after all, just a minor B and E. No theft or assault. Probably.

I decided to leave the news-breaking to the morning. Give the boys time to get accustomed to the fact that we were planning another felony. My plan hadn't _started_ that way. Plus it'd be rude to wake them up by texting at night.

I waited until we were safely seated on _Hugo _before breaking the news. Hi and Shelton couldn't escape from me on the boat to school.

"So guys…" I began, "I may have forgotten a minor detail about our… boat trip this afternoon."

"Does it mean we don't have to go?" Shelton wanted to know, ever-hopeful.

"Nope. But, um, you see, Ella and I had arranged a girls' meeting tonight at mine. So would you mind if she maybe came along too?"

Hi coughed, scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, uh that'd be cool. She's cool."

"You're bringing a friend along to our crime." Shelton buried his head in his hands. "We culd send out invitations next time. RSVP."

"So you're okay if she comes?"

"Sure. What's another young offender to our organised crime ring?"

"At least it's Ella," Hi said. I ignored his implications of who else it might have been that they didn't want. "Plus my mom's got it into her head that we need to go to my aunt's tonight for a full-on day at temple tomorrow. If I tell her I'm spending time with a girl, I might be able to get out of it."

"So could I give you main custody of her, O supreme distractor? And _I'm _a girl."

"Sorry Tor, but according to my mom… nope."

"I wear dresses, and do – _did _– Cotillion and whatever she thinks girls do!"

"And you're also kind of… taken." Hi held up his hands. "I'm not saying by whom, or judging you, or any of that crap. Just that you are a guy to Mom and cannot get me out of temple later."

"Fine. Just so long as we can have our party of six."

"What's the story, then? That you're going to tell her? I'm assuming we're trying to keep our criminal record to a minimum." Shelton had a point.

I thought for a moment. We didn't want to hint at a wider scenario for why we needed to investigate. Obviously none of our actual viral info. And nothing the police should rightly have.

"Related to Hawfield? You'll have to back me up on being vague, wanting to personally cover up potentially missed bases, potential accomplices. He's Hawfield's… uncle. Yeppers."

Hi shrugged. "Not bad, Brennan. Deal's on." He fist-bumped me, exploding it.

"Do you want us to start digging a grave now?"

"Stop being so pessimistic."

"Oh, and Tor," Hi added, "for the love of all cheese-flavoured foods, please don't try to flare. Even I won't be able to explain your 'seizures' to Ella."

"More than fine by me." I didn't plan on having Hi inside K Gruber's house anyway. "I just need to text Ben the developments in our plan."

He responded with **Got it.** almost immediately, so we were still on for after school.

I hoped I hadn't bitten off more than I could chew.

* * *

**A/N: Dudes, hope you liked this! And are excited about the next chapter. I definitely am. Seriously, I have been very hyper about writing 1.6 and 1.7, you have no idea. And virls101, Wolfgirlrocks1 and oceansoul85, your lovely reviews for last chapter really helped me break the wall of writer's block (aka. "can't get into the zone because life is so busy I have nearly no time to write") for this story, in a few chapters' time. Thank you so much to **_**all **_**the incredible reviewers, you encourage me so much, and without you it is unlikely I'd still be here, seriously.**

**Also oceansoul85, Ben's "I'm so annoyed at you" to "I will forever have your back" switches make up like 90% of the reason I love BenxTory too ;) Next time: escaping animals, Cole capers, and Ella teasing. **


	7. 1 - 6

**6.**

"Tory!" I heard Ella's voice. So she had made it to the spot outside the Marina Variety Store Restaurant where we were meeting… but I couldn't see her. I span, nonplussed, only to get whipped across the face with her braid as she leapt out from behind me. I didn't hesitate to throw my arms around her and squeeze hard.

"Ella! I've missed you." We broke away and I grinned at her.

"So what's the gossip you've not told me over text?"

"First things first," I grabbed her arm and towed her towards the spot where _Hugo _was moored. "Let's get on board or we'll be totally isolated til 5."

"No dress comparing. Bummer," she said dryly.

As we approached the boys – Shelton fiddling with his glasses, Hi bobbing his head to an invisible iPod – I reminded her who was who, just in case. Wouldn't want Hi acting wounded for a week because she'd called him Shelton.

"Hey Ella," Hi greeted her, "looking as fabulous as ever."

"Are you okay after, y'know, the weekend?" Shelton asked.

My friend shot Hi a strange look and went with Shelton's question. "Yeah, thanks. It's nice to escape my enforced bedrest, re-enter society before our debut at the Mag League tomorrow." Her eyes rolled. "Mama is far too excited about the whole process."

"There's a _process?_" How had I missed this?

"Well, you know, the number of hours you have to put into each area. Plus it can be a good place to locate a new beau, she says. Meaning, catch a rich one. As if that wouldn't be the most awkward situation in the world."

"Ugh." I laughed, sharing her distaste. "No, thanks. Whitney is like a poodle on steroids about it too. I was thinking we could go out for a bit before doing the dresses, show you some fabulous undeveloped Lowcountry mud?"

"Fine by me. But don't think you've distracted me from the topic of men. Have you finally done anything about Jason Taylor? Ignoring texts about him since Sunday doesn't get you out of this, FYI."

We stepped onto _Hugo _and I busied myself with the line while trying to formulate an answer. "Well, I've made up with him. He practically carried me to class yesterday after my fainting attack. I was hoping maybe he'd get the message?"

"You are sending no clear messages there, girl." Ella shook her head, causing the Hi and Shelton's eyes to follow her braid. "Men never get the message. I mean, you could turn up with a new boyfriend and there's still a chance he'd persist. Although," she added, "Jason _is _rather a Southern gentleman. If you're so definitely uninterested that you'd be happy for Ashley or Maddy to snatch him up, you could try the fake boyfriend manoeuvre."

"Why the phoney attitude all of a sudden?" I teased.

"Blame it on the excessive Jeremy Kyle this week. By all means, break it to him gently that you don't want to be romantically involved."

I sighed. "Okay, you win. I cannot think of a way to tell him."

"Then who do you want to be your fake boyfriend?"

I froze up for a second before realising she was joking. I forced a laugh; Ella saw straight through me.

"Ohh no, Brennan." She leaned in, examining my face. "Wow. It all makes sense now. Although you could have just told me earlier."

I turned to Hi. "So are you definitely out of temple tonight?"

He waved me off. "What makes sense, Ella?"

She sent a smug smile my way. "I don't suppose it's either of these two?"

"Please stop talking or I'll be forced to push you off this boat."

She chuckled. "We can discuss it later. They better be super-smoking-hot if they're keeping you from Jason middle-name-'Fit' Taylor."

Hi pulled a face. I fixed him with a steely gaze.

"Apparently Madison was asking Jason about me, so I'd be willing to bet my bed that she's planning something for tomorrow," I told Ella. "So please don't abandon me to them."

"Please. You're more than able to take her down again. She can barely look at you anymore."

"Madison was asking Jason about you?" Hi interrupted. Shelton looked alarmed too, but as tongue-tied as always in front of strangers.

"Yeah, yesterday, why?" I frowned at the other two. They knew why Madison _really _had a problem with me.

The boys shared a look. "Just some… goss we heard. She's apparently going out with Chance now. Hot new couple alert."

"Chance Claybourne? God." He was entangled in more lies than I'd realised. Crapballs. "That's bad timing for us."

"Why?" Ella looked at me funny. "Is he your one true love?"

"One awkward fling," Hi nodded sagely.

I sent him the stoniest glare I could muster. "You swore you'd never tell."

The rest of the ride was spent explaining to Ella Chance's manipulation of me in the Katherine Heaton case. I cringed the whole way. What had once been a personal embarrassment had turned into an all-too-public misconception. By the time we reached Morris, I was itching to change into a T-shirt and shorts to match Ella's. Throw off memories of Bolton ASAP.

We necked cool-down diet cokes and I changed into more suitable gear – "authentic" ripped denim shorts and old green tee to Ella's sleek black spaghetti-strap Calvin Klein top and floral high-waisted shorts. Then I grabbed my kit and Cooper, who was running in circles around my friend and yipping in excitement as she ruffled his ears.

Down at the dock, I made formal introductions between Ben and Ella. A brief stint as part of her rescue mission hadn't really given time for such social pleasantries. Much to Ben's masked chagrin, she cast off without being told, and I sat myself opposite her in _Sewee_'s stern.

"Tor, if you're sitting here, can I take your normal seat?" Shelton. "There's a few… details I need to bring Ben up to speed with."

Meaning, the Chance/Madison gossip without making Ella think he was effeminate. "By all means."

"You normally take co-captain?" Ella hadn't missed it, trailing Cooper as he ambled to plonk down in the usual spot between Ben and Shelton.

"Yeah. So, we're going to Cole Island because there's a Mr Gruber there we need to pay a social call."

"Strictly legal," Hi put in. "We never break laws. Especially not federal ones, no siree."

Ella nodded. "I wouldn't have thought you did, but cool."

"He's the only registered inhabitant out there, so we should be good to moor wherever."

"What, your only neighbour is Candela? Although," Ella continued with a wink, "I wouldn't mind having Chance Claybourne as my only neighbour. He won't call the cops on you guys anyway, will he? He clearly sees you as someone to keep around, Brennan, all the manipulation excuses behind. I mean, after Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" Hi's expression could be described nicely as 'gormless'. "What?"

"Chance was totally all over Tory at the art show. You should go for it."

The boat jerked forward beneath us at Ella's words. I saw Shelton grab Ben's arm out of the corner of my eye.

"I thought we just said he was going out with Madison?" I'll admit I was stalling her.

"Well yeah," she rolled her eyes, "but there was too much sexual tension between you two at the gallery to be overcome by that ho. Thing big, Tory."

I almost choked on my spit. "_Sexual tension?_ Ella, he blames me for his stint in the psychiatric hospital. Chance is out for my blood, and our 'history' is not providing a foundation for any thoughts other than avoiding his vengeance plan."

"What, not even a few?" She smiled wickedly. I couldn't help pouting a little too, coyly.

"I don't like him. End of story."

"Tory the heartbreaker. We could make you some sort of dating show," Hi mused. "Roll up, roll up! The snobbier you are, the less likely she is to have you."

I reached over and punched him. "And what about one for you? We'd have to practice those _fantastic _conversational skills of yours first, of course. Or just really find you some."

Hi pouted like a forlorn puppy dog. Coop shoved a wagging tail into his knee.

* * *

Despite google maps and the phonebook address, Mr Gruber's house was not easy to find. There were many decrepit buildings surrounded by coppices, with narrow tracks winding up to them from the single tarmac road. Ella hadn't yet needed the cover story, but that might change if we never found the damn place. I prayed she wouldn't ask. It was by no means foolproof, even if we left her with Hi.

Eventually, through the combined use of Shelton and Ben's navigational skills and iPhone compasses, we found the correct run-down barn. Surrounded by several clumps of hacked-short marsh pines, the piles of rocks marking the path there scarcely passed as cairns. They marked a very crooked route to Last Roost, which looked in as much disrepair as the abandoned buildings.

The six of us stood outside for a minute, gazing at the 1.5 stories of tumbledown grey brick. It could've been Mediterranean with the variety of fierce flowers that had reclaimed the place, covering the grate to the sort-of roof. Only a glimpse of neatly closed door and organised pottery inside the paned windows convinced me we'd got the right place.

I glanced back at my companions before opening the farm-size gate with a scream of rusty hinges. I staggered backwards as it dropped into my hands, quickly shoved it back into its original position. Over it was.

Coop wriggled under and pawed at the ground, waiting for me. I clambered over the thick ivy and dropped down to pet his head, rubbing his ears until he turned his head to lick my hand.

Once everyone had come over, officially standing on K Gruber's property uninvited, I walked up to the door and knocked. There was no knocker but my fist made dull thuds twice, so I figured that was announcement enough.

Then a step back from the door. Expectant waiting.

Nobody came.

That wasn't too unusual. I tried knocking again, but had a feeling from the utter stillness of the place that there was nobody home. The others seemed to get it too. Cooper barked loudly, nosing round the doorframe, but nobody came out.

Hi slid me a sideways glance. "I'll go, uh, check the gardens out back."

"Good idea," I said, "Ella, why don't you go with him?"

"But –"

"Yeah, and then we'll try over here," Shelton supplied, too casual with his tone as if the idea was almost pointless. _Boys. _

Hi made to follow the trail to the left of Gruber's house; when Ella didn't follow I gave her an encouraging smile and nudged her with my elbow, then pretended to survey the right-hand edge so she was left without options.

It worked. They disappeared off, and Shelton immediately dropped to a knee, working on the front door with Ben and I standing guard.

We needn't have bothered. The door swung open five seconds in.

I gaped at Shelton. "Is that a new record?"

"There was no lock," he explained. "Wow. I thought all old geezers were super-paranoid."

"How do we know he's an old geezer?"

"Who else would live out here?"

"Hustle, guys." Ben shouldered through us into the house and I followed, staring around.

It was a stark contrast to the last house we'd broken into (the Gables', last Tuesday). The downstairs was all one big room, covered with clay jars of exotic-looking plants and small animal cages. Or rather, open cages lines with soft feathers and blankets. They covered every surface, from the tables and sink units across the back and front walls of stone, to the table, and the floor.

The simple single table in the centre had exactly one large and worn carpet armchair in front of us, facing out of the wide back window, which overlooked the marshes down to the sea. I began to formulate an idea of the sort of person who might live out on Cole Island with no neighbours – that the phone books knew of, anyway.

The lack of animals was disturbing me, though. Clearly K Gruber had a thing for flora and fauna. He could easily be the one who went nuts over three trapped dogs.

I said as much to Ben and Shelton. They nodded.

"Shall I check the loft? And keep Coop out of the cages so we don't leave more of a trace behind than we have to. Can he maybe stand guard?" Shelton's tone was hushed but still echoed in this small stone space. I hadn't even noticed the rough-hewn wooden ladder to the loft space.

I nodded. "As few surprises as possible."

"I'll check that storage space." Ben gestured to the large cupboards.

That left the cages and surfaces for me. I didn't know what I expected to find, but being here was better than nothing, even if just because it _felt _like we were doing something.

I bent to start the search.

* * *

**A/N: I love writing Ella, she's basically me if I was Southern USA and Bolton Prep-rich. But her lack of knowledge about the Virals' problems can get annoying :P **

**While my chapter backlog has been shrinking (mostly due to a humungous workload and illness) I do hope to work on this story over JulNoWriMo! And maybe some PJO shipweeks drabble too, but that'll be posted on my tumblr because I can't write Percy Jackson fanfic decent enough to publish here. Zero plot, yo.**

**I AM SUPER EXCITED FOR NEXT CHAPTER. YOU WON'T BE DISAPPOINTED. Upcoming: animal rights, kiss revisited, Katherine's eagles.**


	8. 1 - 7

**7.**

"He really doesn't look tech-savvy," Ben muttered. I glanced up from the rusting but well-cleaned sink unit to see him pick up and drop an ancient-looking telephone. Sweet Jesus, was that from the 1950s? 40s?

"Definitely not enough to disable security cameras," I agreed. "If we got anything from last week, it was knowing that Candela hasn't skimped on its security."

I crouched to examine the tank sitting beneath the sink, beside the plumbing. In here, at least, the resident amphibians and fish were still present.

So what had happened to all the rest? I suspected they might be with Mr Gruber – but where was he?

If only we could safely flare…

Well, less dangerously flare. It had never been safe, per se.

I stood up, moving onto the wooden crates and mesh cages atop the sturdy oak table. I was leaning over when the flash of awareness – the one denoting Chance as flaring – swept over me. What had once been a gentle pull, a prickling similar to my constant vague consciousness of the other Virals, had turned into a mental shove.

I wasn't prepared and almost knocked a box off the table. Ben turned, shoulders still buried in bags of pet food, raised his eyebrows. "You okay?"

"Chance and his bloody flaring," I muttered angrily. "He's gaining control of my senses and I don't like it."

"So you can see why we moan." I ignored that.

"Why do I only recognise his flare sometimes?"

Ben came over to the table where I had my hands braced. "I don't know how possible anything is, so don't shoot me down. But could he be doing all this deliberately, messing with you?"

I shook my head. "It's too… unconscious. Like how I always know where you guys are. He wouldn't manipulate us like that."

Ben snorted. "Are you really letting him off that easy?"

I looked up sharply. "Chance me manipulated me a year ago for his father. I hated – _still _hate – him for it. But I can't leave him stranded now. He's Viral."

Ben just shook his head. Snorted. Like a bloody horse. The gauntlet really had been thrown down. "God, you're still so hung up on him. Another pretty-boy snob, and they're –"

"No, I am _not._" I stepped around the table corner to face Ben furiously, my stare drilling into his. "What do you want me to do to show you how much I don't like Chance, or any other 'pretty-boy snobs', huh?"

"It must be hard, being so wanted by all the blokes you meet. Excuse me if I don't want to dance to your tune any more."

"This – " I gestured between us, "was all your idea. It didn't go down so well the first time. Clearly I was deluded when 'we' almost happened the second time, five months later. We knew this would happen."

"What, can you read the future now too, as well as minds? And excuse me," Ben spat, "if you pin all the blame for 'this' on me. It takes two to tango, Brennan."

"You just pinned all the blame on me!" We were going round in circles. The blame game was a useless one. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to cut to the heart of the matter. "Why are you so mad at me?"

Ben looked away, head hung, mouth twisting grimly. "I… Am I just another manipulation? Let's get Ben out of here quick by kiss'n'running, since he'll just mess it up again?"

"No!" What a way to pick apart the first physical affection I'd shown, tarnish it and throw distrust at me. I was a sizzling Molotov Cocktail of fury and hurt. "You want to know what a murdering playboy's manipulative kiss looks like, Blue? It's this."

Ben's gaze snapped up to me as I moved right up close to him, only slightly to his right and my back to the table, so his eyes remained on mine. I took his right hand from its folded position and tried to trace patterns on it with my thumbs. His skin seemed burning hot, almost searingly so. My right hand moved to his hip, resting on the blue cotton shirt just above his waistband.

Then I slowly brought my lips to Ben's cheek, catching the corner of lips, but mostly tasting the burning, slightly rough, skin on his jaw. Briefly, so briefly. I focused on the teases of dark hair in my eyeline before lowering my head down, taking my hands back.

Ben's eyes tracked mine, pupils swollen and dark, lips slightly parted. I didn't move away from the closeness. Somehow, my hands felt lonely and awkward at my sides, so I pushed them back against the table. Focused on how Ben was looking at me like he was looking right inside me.

_Whoa boy._

"I don't like Chance," I whispered, cleared my throat, increased the volume a notch. "I might suck at… emotions, and dealing with them. But you have nothing, _nothing,_ to be jealous of." I leaned closer so a small shiver went through Ben at my breath on his lips. "So if you don't quit acting like a moron, I will personally feed you to Kit's rabid turtles."

Ben's mouth turned up into a kind of smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Rabid turtles. Right."

I was suddenly very aware of the lack of space between us. The warmth I could feel from Ben's body. How his chest was rising and falling with each breath, so close to mine. My gaze rose to his lips, jitters flooding me.

Sunday had been impulsive.

But holy smoking buckets, I could feel the impulse rushing at me headlong again.

A crash from the loft had be checking up, but nothing could be seen, and Coop wasn't barking in warning. When my eyes found Ben's again, he twisted his smile to one side.

"If you don't like Chance, or any other pretty-boy snobs, then who do you like?"

"Only one way to test it and find out," I challenged. My smirk matched his now, even as my heartbeat thrummed wildly.

His gaze slipped to my lips. I was hyperaware of him, the nearness and skin as he slowly closed centimetres –

"Hey y'all, next time I signal like that, it'd be great if – _holy sizzling frogs!"_ Shelton's voice neared the upper floor's balcony then retreated again swiftly. I sprang sideways from Ben, blood flooding my face, unable to look at him. "Can I come out?"

"Of course." Embarrassment and irritation coloured my tone to match my face.

"Pardon me for wanting to warn you about the impending disaster in 5, 4, 3…"

I finally heard it. The clatter and clash signalling danger, just as Coop jumped up from his door spot and growled before shooting straight out. I prayed he ran for Ella and Hi.

Too late for us now. The single door swung open.

A gigantic basket preceded the arrival. Sturdy plastic that dipped down as the shadowed figure tried to angle it inside, giving a full view of the assorted reptiles and rodents inside. Separate enclosures gave each an individual compartment.

I watched in disbelief as a small but broad-shouldered man shuffled inside with it, lowering the box onto the near bench, then trudged back outside. I squinted out of the doorway and saw other suitcase-sized trays sitting on a large luggage trolley.

_Cover story quick!_

K Gruber might have overlooked our frozen figures the first time around, but we couldn't slip around him and the trolley of furry friends. I desperately searched for any ideas. Conservationists? Concerned neighbours?

The second tray of animals was laid on the opposite bench; he walked right past us, humming. Mr Gruber still, incredibly, didn't spot Ben and I but went back for the trolley with the third remaining tray still laid on.

A strain of awareness pulled at me, leading upwards. Shelton had accidentally flares. I couldn't afford to do the same. The others might have tried to hide, but I had more hope. Gruber might be very helpful – although had no google hits for helpful charity work or otherwise – and we could easily get past him, I saw, if we needed to. Not that it would stop him pressing charges.

I gritted my teeth, trying to resist the flare, as Mr Gruber pushed the trolley of creatures towards us. Crossed the threshold. Lifted the tray onto the table cages. Balanced. Looked up at us.

Froze.

With my best smart smile in place, I said smoothly, "Good afternoon, Mr Gruber. Would you mind if we had a quick chat?"

"Chat?" His expression of naked bewilderment hardened. "I don't like them very much."

Damn. I mentally winced.

Quick change of cover story.

"Please sir," I pleaded, "we're so worried about our dogs. And I hoped you, being a great nature expert and all, might be able to help us." A massive guess. He didn't seem surprised, though.

"We're very anxious about them," Ben added. His 'upset' tone made Mr Gruber at least pause as he began to lift mice into floor homes, knees creaking.

"What makes you think I can help?" Gruff tone, not looking at us.

"We saw Chance Claybourne take our dogs when we were walking them at Battery Park on Tuesday. We think he might have them here somewhere." I imagined Coop really was stolen. It brought a wobble to my voice and lip. "Please, have you seen them? I'm so worried because… well… he's well-known for all that animal cruelty."

I let out a fake sob, covering my face with a hand. Prayed my acting wasn't too wooden or overkill. _Just think of Cooper._

Ben put an arm around my shoulders and patted my back. "C'mon Tory. It'll be okay. We'll find them somehow. Mr Gruber can help us." He looked up at the old man now. "Can't you, sir?"

"Hmph. I am not a fan of the Claybournes' cruelty, I must say, but I am also not out to go on the Candela black list. There have been many species of beautiful flora and fauna on this island that they have destroyed." He paused with a weasel – or maybe a stoat; Ben would know – in hand and slowly stroked it before placing tenderly in a roomy cage on the tabletop. The entire room was so stuffed with them I was beginning to feel like an inmate. "My family has been greatly depleted by Candela Pharmaceuticals' ugly, poisonous factories. No, no, we try to keep away from them as much as we can."

"But could you please keep an eye out for our dogs?" I asked, remembering to sniffle a few seconds too late. "Or even, if you see them… get them back?"

I had crossed the line, which at least gave better evidence for us. Mr Gruber drew himself up to his full height – which wasn't exactly tall, maybe an inch or two under Shelton. "I will do no such thing. Neither I nor my family will go near those evil factories. We have always stayed in _our _area ever since this land was sold to the company in 1969."

"But if you do see two Alsatians and a Collie, do phone us. Please. It's Ben and Tory," I added, trying to look upset. Ben pulled a pen that was wedged between two table cages and ripped a napkin corner from his jeans pocket to write my mobile number on.

"What are your full names?" Gruber clearly didn't trust us. I could live with that.

"Victoria and Benjamin Blue," I enunciated, remembering our 'family ties' at the last second.

_Ohmygod it sounds like you're married._

Ben clearly had the same thought. I felt more than saw him shoot me a look as he scribbled our names beneath the numbers.

"And what's your full name?" I asked, polite as possible.

"Karl Gruber. Lived here seventy years and I'm not moving now, in case anyone else asks you. Now scram. It's dinnertime."

I turned to go. A vague flare of panic in my head reminded me of Shelton. Whoops.

"Could we see this view before we go? It's such a beautiful frame of the Atlantic. Breathtaking." Ben flashed his pearly whites at Mr Gruber.

Karl's face cleared. "Oh yes. Ever so lovely. We all adore the view." He ambled over, chatting about the ocean and coastline. Ben nodded along, seemingly genuinely enjoying it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Shelton creeping down the ladder. A woosh, a slight pull in my mental Viral GPS, and he was gone to Hi and Ella. We probably needed to go too. But I didn't want to hurry Ben.

We waved goodbye ten minutes, Karl a lot happier than when he'd tried to shove us out before. We found the others behind his gate, casually huddled behind a short pine with Shelton and Hi wrestling to keep Coop's collar in hand. As soon as he saw me, he went beserkly happy. Nobody sent any weird looks hinting at superior knowledge of relationships.

One suspect down.

* * *

**A/N: damn that was a fun one to write. Plot is now picking up pace (and I'm talking the mystery here). Hope you enjoyed! Please tell me your thoughts below :) ALSO, I am so sorry that this has been a little longer than usual! I got so into JulNo that I completely forgot I'd starved you guys of updates. Since my prewrittens store is now lengthening with JulNo, hopefully they'll come a little quicker. Hopefully this chapter somewhat makes up...?**

**Next time: texting concentration, Ella's vanishing act, psychic babble**


	9. 1 - 8

**8.**

Mount Pleasant food bank, 9:08. Kit had almost forgotten to drive me here, and I almost didn't remind him. In the end Whitney pushed us both out the door, throwing designer shades after me.

Gucci. Very large and dark. I couldn't complain on either front for purpose. Not that I _wanted _to flare, but that was no longer always a choice.

I hopped out of the 4Runner with a wave over my shoulder to Kit. Mouthed 'noon'. I was sure three hours of this farce would be more than plenty. Even with Ella by my side, and our labour going towards a great cause, I was not wild about spending my weekend time in close quarters with the Tripod of Skank bossing us on how to pack cans into boxes.

_Blargh. _

I swung my free hair to cover my left shoulder as I tapped up the steps. When I had refused heels last nigh – my co-ordination did _not _extend to contraptions putting me over six foot – Ella had extracted a pinky swear that I would don this navy A-line dress. It was floaty linen, tastefully embellished and simple, a 'skater skirt' from the waist she had said. But it was short. Very short.

I had more than a sneaking suspicion that anyone following me up stairs would get an eyeful. Ella had claimed it my "legs go for miles". I now decided that meant "see where my legs end".

In retaliation for the shortness, I had voted on a garish pink number for her. Whitney had been so delighted with the choice that I'd been forced to hastily reconsider. Any dress causing the real-life Barbie such raptures as a social Chernobyl waiting to happen. Plan B, a ditzy orange and white affair, had promptly been swapped in.

I almost wished we'd kept the pink gown so I wouldn't feel alone in my exposure. What better place to almost show your underwear than the Mount Pleasant Presbyterian Church?

I shook my head. Paused at the doors – white and wooden, like everything else about the building's exterior.

Game face on.

I sailed in, trying to glide, half-smiling at anyone looking my way. The single large room seemed to be decorated in Regency style, with Greek columns twinned with lush red carpet. I wasn't up on my denominations, but it seemed a pretty nice crib for JC the carpenter.

I caught sight of the pastor, the only male in the room, speaking to the central throng of older ladies. Their volume of hairspray denoted their status as being in charge. The other forty or so junior and senior members milled between pews in the nave, spreading rumours and generating gossip. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said this was a meet'n'greet, not a charity event. There wasn't so much as a packet of cup-a-soup in sight.

Which begged the question: where was Ella? Or really, any vaguely recognisable faces? The ones down here all seemed to be too orange and fake. Maybe it would make spotting my friend easier.

I continued pushing gently through the mulling members. The overwhelming perfume stink made me cough a little, drawing several dirty looks from a clique of silk scarf wearers. I tried to ignore them, continue my quest. I was late, but not _that _late.

The church felt increasingly claustrophobic, sweat beading at my temples as I valiantly scanned the decadent room and women therein. Fancy chandelier? Check. Neat balconies and gilt detailing? Double check. A friendly face – even the Tripod would do now; I really was getting desperate – in the crowd? Nada.

I decided to take five. Probably had only circulated for that long, but I decided caution over stressing when it came to regulating flares and any weird sensations e.g. the paranoia and claustrophobia currently setting in.

Yeah, if I flared around Madison again, my pack would rip me to shreds for it. How much Madison knew now she was dating a Viral too, I had less than no clue. No desire to try my techniques for discovery out. But probably ought to be worried about her.

I gave a final glance around at the twittering busybodies and darted around one of the giant columns to hide there for a moment. I slipped out my phone from the borrowed cream leather messenger bag.

IMESSAGE: 16 NOTIFICATIONS. Well, crap. Looked like the boys had begun the negotiations without me.

**HS: So if u guys found zip who's our nxt suspect?**

**SD: No new leads = no more adventures, Hiram.**

**HS: Not even Chance w/ his potential BSing?**

**SD: How do you want to investigate /him/?**

**SD: We'd have to confront him again for that and give info in return. No go.**

**BB: What are we trying to find out?**

**HS: We cud try 2 find the mutts rselves? Tory makes a gd sniffer dog.**

**BB: Do we even want to find them?**

**SD: We need to find out what's wrong with us, dude. This was your terms.**

**HS: idk if I want the testing pkage, but I do know I'm not keen on escaped Viral dogs.**

**SD: Tor's flares are getting seriously messed up.**

**BB: It's Chance messing them up. How will going to him solve that?**

**BB: The point of him finding the mutts is to prove we can trust him.**

**HS: &amp; in the meantym we jst wait round … kwl.**

**BB: Not like our secret's going anywhere.**

**SD: True.**

Oh man. I shook my head, typed a message back.

**TB: Unless, ofc, Madison realises her new beau is a 'demon' like us too.**

The replies were almost identical and instant.

**SD: Oh crap.**

**HS: 4gottn that detail.**

**TB: If I knew why the different awarenesses and wonky stuff happened, it'd be ok.**

**TB: Can't seem to see a pattern.**

**HS: Tried ur concentration trick?**

**TB: Not yet. Good idea.**

I locked my phone and leaned back against the stone pillar, closing my eyes. It had been a while since I'd used my old favourite method.

I shut out the giggling bustle behind me. Focused on the strange awarenesses, picturing them at the centre of my conscious. Increasing in strength, only occurring at certain times, and probably not every single time Chance flared, since they were so few and far between at first. So when _did _they occur?

I thought back to the memorable flashes last week: outside the Flying Tomato; on my way back from the Ben/parking lot disaster; when Chance told us he was Viral.

_Chance. _In proximity to him, the awareness.

And they were gaining in strength because… he was getting stronger in them? Able to control them more? More fully Viral? Something along those lines felt right, but I wished I knew what, and why.

Shaking my head, I opened my eyes and phone.

**TB: Got it. Chance awareness (we def need a proper name 4 it) when he's flaring close by. Increasing strength as he does. Idk why.**

**TB: Or why funky stuff is happening when I'm not flaring. Or why I can feel a weaker mental connection right now, when Chance clearly not present. **

**HS: Awesome work, team. Gr8 progress.**

**SD: You gonna investigate that last thing?**

A nearby titter caught my ears. Too close. I listened, caught a definite snatch of Ashley Bodford;s voice nearing me. Crap.

**TB: Tripod coming g2g sorry bye**

I locked my phone just as they rounded the pillar next to me. Zoomed in, surprised expressions in place. I tried to smile. Probably came out looking more like a grimace.

"Tory!" Ashley grinned widely, a snake about to swallow me whole. "I'm so glad we found you. We've been looking all over for you."

"You… have?"

"Yeah. I love your dress," Courtney appraised me. "You have really nice legs."

"Thanks." I looked to where Madison was hovering behind Ashley and staring at her nails like she wanted to bite the already-raw nailbeds. "Hey Maddy. Congrats on seeing Chance. You guys are a nice couple."

She narrowed her eyes at me doubtfully. "Thanks. I didn't expect to see you here, in a church."

"Why not?" The rest of this game, I had been expecting. Not that.

Madison dropped her gaze to my bag, bit her lip, and hurried off with professionally dyed locks swinging. I frowned after her. "What is her problem?"

"What did you _do _to her?" I started, not expecting Ashley to respond. But her cutting eyes were fixed on me still. "Madison has been so spooked since you said 'boo' to her last year. It's so pathetic. How did you even do it?"

"I don't know," I shook my head. _Why are they still here? _"But I actually have to find Ella – "

"Oh, we know where she is," Courtney butted in, sending a sweet smile my way, "and we can get you to Jason Taylor too."

"He's here, today?"

"Yeah. He so likes you," Courtney added.

"Come with us. We'll avoid the hags this way." Ashley closed her cold hands around my upper arm and pulled me towards a small door in the corner I'd not spotted before. "I love how close you and Jason are. "It's absolutely adorable." We started up a narrow, whitewashed stairwell.

"Mm-hm. Are you 'close' to anyone at the minute?"

"Well Courtney's dating my second-cousin's friend Zac but he's actually _quitting _the Citadel can you believe?"

"He's totally into this surfer skank anyway. I might hook up with one of his crew who's still in school." Courtney pulled out lipgloss and smeared it over her already-dripping lips.

"Good plan," I told her sweetly. Most of my brain was screeching _what are you doing?! _The remaining part kept searching for Ella or Jason, while simultaneously keeping me afloat here.

Ashley pushed open the door straight ahead and we emerged onto a scarlet-carpeted balcony overlooking the nave below. My eyebrows rose at the production line up here. There were food packets and cardboard boxes everywhere, women in dresses as tight and bright as the Tripods' industriously sorting long-life food.

As I skirted a particularly large cardboard box – still dragged along by Ashley – I heard Courtney saying, "Hey Jason," all sugary-sweet.

I looked up to catch sight of him standing up, box in hand, smiling widely. "Hey, girls. And Tory! Have you been assigned up here too?"

"Assigned?" Ashley's fake nails were digging into my skin like claws. I tried to disengage. "Er, no."

"Well we're short on packagers. You want to come?"

"Sure, let's all go. How you doing, Jase?" Ashley stepped in front of me.

"Cool. But Ashley, I thing Mrs Vertrees was asking for you, over that way. See you later."

He simultaneously manoeuvred past the remaining legs of the Tripod and hustled us two away. I tried to muffle my giggles til we were out of earshot.

"Nicely done," I told him. "But how come you're here?"

"They've apparently been storing the food donations up here, so we have to package up here, but then the boxes need to hit the trucks somehow. So my mom dragged me here to be the muscle for moving them downstairs."

"Well I'm glad you're here." I smiled up at him. A pang went through me as I remembered Ella's words. Was this leading him on?

"Victoria!" A tall and buxom olive-skinned woman wobbled over to me on her Manolos. "Victoria Brennan!"

"Yes Ma'am?"

"Right you're here. First chapter meeting, good. Have you seen Ella Francis? She was supposed to fetch my daughter and Courtney Holt ages ago!"

"No Ma'am, I'm sorry," I said politely. "Where did you see her last?"

"By the packaging."

"I'll send her if I see her."

"Thank you. Now back to work, back to work!"

I jumped to, following Jason. Where was Ella? Her vanishing act was unnerving when she'd said she'd meet me somewhere visible. At least Jason was here to save me from the witches.

He showed me to the abandoned packaging area, which was piles of filled boxes needing to be sealed and labelled. We settled into a routine quickly, each sticking and duct-taping a box, then Jason would haul them downstairs. Conversation was stilted but fun. No matter how I texted and checked for Ella, she didn't materialise.

At eleven, we took a break with some of my bottled ice water Whitney had handed me and a packet of Sour Patch Kids Jason had nicked from Sophia. His kid sister if she ate them, apparently, so it was his duty to take them off her hands.

By the time 11.50 rolled around, we had sorted over sixty boxes for the Mount Pleasant Food Bank. In the darkened corner, by the opposite door down to ground level, we had spent two and a half hours, the wall of boxes only felt slightly more open than before. But I felt I'd done my duty to society.

"I think we can stop here," I told Jason, ripping off the end of the duct tape for box #62. "Our duty has got to be fulfilled by now."

"Yeah, you think?" He gabbed the last of the boxes, laughing. "Let's head down."

I made to follow. As I pushed open the door to the stairwell, a sudden rush of voices filled my head. Not spoken words – internal ones. Loud ones. A clamour of psychicbabble.

In shock I almost fell to the floor, ending up on my knees instead. I clutched at my ears and squeezed my eyes tight shut, trying to feel the reassuring presence of my pack in the darkness.

For a horrible long moment, the voices were inescapable. They my boys emerged, and the other people receded.

"Tory!" I opened my eyes to Jason shaking my shoulders, food boxes thrown aside. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?"

"Another almost fainting attack." I smiled weakly. "Sorry for scaring you half to death."

"Come on, I'll get you outside. There's no fresh air in this place." Jason pulled my left arm over his shoulders easily, his right arm around my waist as support/ I concentrated on keeping my breathing even and mind stable. Not to mention my body upright and feet on the floor. Everything was tilting and shaking.

It was slow going, Jason holding me up almost all the way. I think my hair got in his face more than once. But yet again, Jason had unquestioningly saved my ass from body dropout and the voices in my head.

I stumbled as that thought crossed my mind. Wow. I was officially a wreck, a psychological field day. And Jason was… he was so loyal, faithful, simply helpful. I didn't deserve him. I needed to tell him I couldn't be more than a friend to him.

Couldn't I?

_No! _What was that madness?

It was my wrecked mind. I wasn't fit for _any _person right now.

We pushed out of the stairwell door into the back of the church, right beside its entrance. Jason didn't take his arm away but held me upright still, turning to examine my face with a small frown. "You're still so pale."

"I'll be okay. Jason, I need to talk to you."

"So go ahead." He glanced around, seemingly oblivious to my heavy tone. Would he still be my friend when I told him there was no possibility of anything else?

"Jason, we're friends, right?" I blurted. The words weren't coming out right. I closed my eyes as he looked at me quizzically. "I mean – we're _just _friends, right?"

"Whatever you want, Tor."

"Is that okay? Thanks." My head was spinning but that, at least, was a weight off my shoulders. I looked up at him and smiled weakly just as my phone buzzed.

Message from Kit. He was right outside.

"I have to go, but thanks for all the jokes and support," I told him, slowly moving out from under Jason's arm like a first-time walker. "Seriously, you're ace. Couldn't have done it without you."

"Anytime, Tory." He gave a wave as the door closed behind me. I descended the steps, shielding my eyes against the sun, and heading for Kit's car. My eyes caught movement off to the left –

"Francis!" I yelled. Ella froze and swivelled, a guiltily devious look crossing her face. "You done running away from me? Where have you even been all day?"

"Leaving you with loverboy for some bonding time." She winked. "Clearly it worked."

"You – well, I told him I just want to be friends. So that worked."

"Hey, good job Brennan." She zoomed over for a hug. "Whoa, you're extra-super-white. You okay?"

"Fainting attack again. Probably need to go home and sleep it off."

"Catch up on _Gossip Girl. _It's the best medicine there is – oh wait you still won't watch it!"

"Not while Bear Grylls still has unviewed pearls of wisdom for me." I felt better for talking to her. "See you Monday."

"Yeah right. See you on iMessage."

* * *

**A/N: Hope you've enjoyed this extra-long chapter, I probably tried to squeeze too much in, but it was fun to write, and a bit earlier than usual. I hope you liked the developments! And what is going wrong with Tory?!**

**I want to say a massive thank you to all my reviewers – we hit over thirty in eight chapters, which is ~awesome~. Special shout-out to stormyskies73, virls101, oceansoul85 and Wolfgirlrocks1, since your regular lovely reviews make me so happy :3**

**Next time: mysterious texts, problem lists, an unexpected hatred…**


	10. 1 - 9

**9.**

I endured my father's enforced bedrest for the rest of Saturday. He would stand for nothing else after I told him about my second "fainting attack". Possibly the fact that I'd forgotten to tell him about the first one didn't lessen Kit's displeasure.

Sunday morning saw me as chipper as usual (read: zombie-like until coffee) and managed to wrangle my way outside with the promise of calling immediately if I felt anything less than 100% healthy. The boys and I spent the morning going in and out of Morris Island coves, rating them on accessibility, beach, mysteriousness, and swimming. Hi was compiling a comparative list. Probably he would have designed a set of Top Trumps cards by this time next week.

I had spent the whole time dodging loaded looks and, after briefly explaining what happened with the voice rush at the Mag League the day before, pretending like I didn't know flares as anything but emergency fireworks.

We ate a late lunch of beef sandwiches, courtesy of Ruth Stolowitski, who apparently loved pairing mustard with every known filling. Then Ben had to get back to drive to his mom's, and Hi and Shelton reminded me of our English project. Another thing I'd been avoiding thinking of, until I suddenly found myself alone in the townhouse on Sunday afternoon with the _thoughts _not leaving me be.

Kit was out supporting Whitney at her pie thing, so I had the house to myself. A real empty space to sort out my mental pile of crap. Fantastic.

I knew I needed to confront it. Really, really didn't want to.

Remembering Mom's actions when she had too much to think about, I grabbed markers and a plain sheet. List time. What unresolved issues did I have?

The white page looked scarily blank. I tried to breathe deeply, not get overwhelmed, as was happening too often recently. Take up yoga or meditation one of these days.

_\- Ben – do I want to be more than packmates? _My immediate gut feeling was yes. _But what will that do to the pack?_

Okay. I was feeling better already. As long as I didn't try to actually answer these questions, it could work.

_\- Flares randomly strong or snupping_

_\- Flare voices knockouts_

_\- Flare disconnection from body_

_\- Flare awareness of others_

Those categories seemed a lot. But accurate. It was scary looking at them written down with no way around the horrible problems until we got them tested scientifically.

_Way to beat about the bush. _I felt sick at the thought of someone attaching electrodes to me and measuring my movements, brain activity. And I was the one who (supposedly) wanted Chance's treatment.

I felt sicker at the thought of my mind severing from my body again, though.

Bringing me neatly to the other sources of pressure…

_\- Chance – how to help him. Do we want his help? _I certainly needed it, if the last week was any indication, whether I wanted it or not. Even the thought of the Marina Voices Attack made me want to run for the bathroom.

This was how I was categorising them: by attack types, just like when we started our flaring and had no control over our internal upheavals then either. What if my body was rejecting the wolf? It could be gaining more control, too. Maybe as large a genetic alteration as the original one that made us Viral.

We had changed to the core once.

We change like that again.

And the others weren't even getting these… issues. Ben's flare seemed to be more stable than ever, occasional difficulties opening up aside. Was this all from Chance too?

I noted all my questions and theories down. Ripped the part about Ben off the top of the sheet, snipping this slip into tiny pieces over the recycling bin. Then I snapped a pic of my list and sent it to the boys with a request for a virtual meeting tomorrow.

I didn't want to stay around for their responses, so whistled for Cooper. Our twenty-minute walk morphed into an hour, then two. By the time we got back from stalking the dunes, it was growing dark. But I knew what I needed to do.

Ben wouldn't like it.

But I picked up my phone from the table where I'd left it and sent the text anyway.

* * *

"Here's to a more normal week!" Shelton seemed buoyed by the prospect. Hi frowned at his words; I remained quiet and poker-faced.

"A little drama would be good," Hi ventured, "but I'm more than happy to ditch the danger. Meth not death."

"This isn't _Breaking Bad. _Meth is easily death."

"Don't be such a killjoy, Devers. The high life is the best life."

"This from your wide experience of drugs. I suppose you get them off the women you're surrounded with 24/7?"

"Of course." Hi brushed invisible dirt off his shoulders.

I really wanted to tell them. I felt terrible that I hadn't told them. This was a decision I'd made alone that impacted all of us.

What I really wanted to do was phone Ben – which was ridiculous and also definitely infeasible. Not least for the fact that he was currently driving and I was stuck with Tweedledum and Tweedledee, who somehow managed to talk themselves to Middle Earth and back before we even docked.

They asked me once if I was okay, then moved onto some other space-based TV programme I didn't know. As we headed down the Eighth Wonder of the World that is Charleston marina, my phone pinged a text from Whitney.

A reminder to pick up some more of her favourite Organic Local Sea Salt, "vital to our one-on-one cooking class tonight". An event which, much like all other things involving Ms Dubois, I hadn't been consulted about happening. I was beginning to suspect she never did even ask me about them anymore, just presenting them to me as set in stone.

I rerouted the boys before texting back. She responded with about sixty XOs and the explanation that I needed to vouch for one acceptable Finishing skill for Saturday's Mag League Chapter Meeting. _Blargh._

Shelton and Hi looked briefly worried about my teeth-grinding before I explained "Whitney." And texted back I had soccer practice tonight so could we cook tomorrow.

The sports would be good, sure to work me hard after my weeks of inertia; the sooner I got back into shape, the better. And it would put off my facing the pack, which had to be done ASAP. All cards on the table, no holds barred. I'd have preferred it to be a face-to-face affair but would settle for the vidcon scheduled.

_Don't think about it now. _The boys would know later today, which was good enough.

Somehow, I didn't think I'd be have to stop telling myself this all day. It was going to be a long one.

* * *

"And… we're free!" Ella sashayed down the hall, grabbing my arm and swinging me round with her. I couldn't help laughing; she was way too enthusiastic about returning to school. I appreciated having her back, though.

"Does it feel like a prison again yet?" I teased.

"Not quite. Better see how our field skills are holding up first. Go go go, Brennan!"

I rolled my eyes. "Pretty sure I won't be able to outrun a dead fish I'm so out of shape. Shouldn't the captain be the one in the changing rooms and pitch first?"

"Yep, so if you don't move your skinny ass immediately, I'm dragging you all by myself."

"Go ahe – WHOA!" I had possibly underestimated Ella's strength for dragging me. She seized my wrist in an unbreakable grip and towed me through the halls until we reached the locker rooms.

"We the _team!_" Ella yanked her kit from her locker so hard I thought the whole block of lockers might topple under her football frenzy. It was great to see her so animated again. I grinned as I teased my wrist away.

"Hey, you want to give this body part back to me?"

"Maybe." Ella winked and released me. "Did you get the shinguards I instructed you to get?"

"Ah." I pulled a face. "No. Kit forced bedrest on me for the weekend."

"Damn." She shook her head, then lit up as a clump of the team drifted in. "Yo guys! You ready for some proper training?"

"But it's so hot out," Megan Hathaway lamented. "And you're too chipper for such a stuffy day, Cap'n."

"Well just don't put on as many layers as Vi," Ella told her. Violet Stanley was notorious for the amount of layers she wore for practice, often playing defence with me. Entering behind Megan, though, she didn't laugh this time. Vi might be quite shy but she didn't usually take offense easily. I raised an eyebrow at Ella, but she shrugged and carried on simultaneously undressing and greeting her team.

Megan was right: it was blindingly hot on the exposed soccer field, and my pale skin was pinked within seconds. I was sweating even before we'd finished chasing the chimney boys – so called for their disgusting smoking habits – away. It felt good to be running around again, though. Coach seemed pleased to have us all back together too, almost as much as Ella, who was bouncing everywhere like she was practicing to be the second Flash.

She was absolutely on fire as we ran through agility drills and passing/receiving manoeuvres. A little more red in the face than usual, perhaps, but just as vocal as usual in getting us to work together better. By the time four rolled around, I was feeling wiped out but more than pumped for our practice game.

Seven-a-side. A good number for practicing our position-team moves. With Ella on the opposing team, Violet and I were sure to see a lot of action down our goal end.

As predicted, within thirty seconds, Ella had passed the ball to her forward Megan, who then dodged around me and shot. Violet rescued me, stopping the ball before it reached the goalie.

I dashed to the opposite side of the pitch. Waved my arms to show Violet I was currently, briefly free for the moves we'd just been practicing – admittedly not as a pair with each other, but this was practically handed to my right defender on a plate.

She glanced at me. Took aim. Kicked way up pitch to where somehow stopped it and booted it into goal. I frowned at Violet. Way to miss a chance to practice our moves, but better luck next time.

Or not.

Three more times she got the ball and didn't pass it to me when I was obviously unmarked. Worse, I used the 'cross-goal for up-pitch' move twice by passing to Violet, and she simply let the ball sail past, off the pitch. Cue some sort of side advantage for the other team (I still wasn't down with the offside rules yet).

This wasn't just passive aggression, ignoring me with no active seeking. Violet Stanley was going out of her way not to work with me.

I was more confused at first, shrugging off her weirdness. Why did quiet Violet – daughter of a churchman, if I recalled correctly – refuse to interact with me?

After a drastically terrible lose to Ella's team at the whistle's blow, however, I was sick of the game and swapped confusion for fury. But before I'd even gotten the chance to talk to her, Ella was storming down the pitch. If I was mad, Ella was madder. Hell hath no fury like the captain of a woman scorned.

"What the hell was that?" she yelled. "Defenders, you played like shit. What is your problem?"

All the players drew together in a knot near the centre of the pitch. I aimed my words at Violet. "I can't defend the goal as a team if the other defender is refusing to work with me! Why the cold shoulder? You let the other team make a killing."

The recipient of my words didn't even look my way, keeping her eyes on our captain, making no movement to indicate she'd heard me. I was seized by the sudden worry that I'd accidentally wormed inside her mind and made her forget about me somehow, but shook it off as ridiculous. I didn't have that kind of energy and time to spare that mind-altering would require.

"Hey, you heard Tory. What's going on?" Ella grabbed the other girl's shoulders now. "Violet Stanley! Why aren't you speaking to Victoria?"

"I'm not allowed." The words seemed to tumble out by accident. She covered her mouth after, cheeks burning redder, eyes glued to the ground.

"Why not?" I narrowed my eyes, but Vi ignored my words. Ella cut me a sideways glance and repeated the question with an added shake of Violet's shoulders for good measure. This could be a long process.

"Because my father said so."

"And why doesn't Reverend Stanley want you talking to Tory?" That was Megan with an added eye-roll for good measure. She was clearly used to this sort of thing.

"Because…" Violet glanced at me involuntarily and shivered. "Because…"

"Tell me!" Ella commanded.

"Because she's possessed! By an evil demon! I have to stay away because what if she curses me too?" Violet started shaking. Ella clamped her fingers in harder, jaw set.

My body was frozen frigid, mind racing, all blood draining from my head to my feet. The implications flooded through my brain faster than deliberate thought.

_Possessed._

I think I was shaking too, but Ella shook Violet, not me, and the team encircling us whispered behind hands, offering no help to either side.

"That's nonsense. Even if Tory was a freaking demon, you'll see a worse one in me if you don't stop this ignoring business. We need a good team together, you hear me?"

Violet nodded, still studiously avoiding looking at me since her mistake earlier.

"Who said that stuff anyway? Why's your daddy going about telling you Tory's possessed?" Ella's last word was said in a scathing tone, but she wasn't relinquishing her tight grip on Vi's shoulders. In the bright sunlight bouncing off her black braid and gleaming face, expression stiff with leaderly protection and problem-solving, I saw a flash of what it mean to look up to an alpha.

But Violet's answer had me crashing back to earth with a nasty smack of guessing the answer already.

"M-Madison. Dunkle. She says Tory once tried to possess her." Violet's lip began to wobble, tears on the verge of being let forth. Ella shook her head and released her prisoner, obviously deciding that this didn't need any more questioning now, telling the team it had been a good practice back and to go shower.

I didn't want to face them, a new host of people staring at me like I was a freak. Well, like the freak I was. So I stayed back with Ella.

"Good game plan," I told her. We both knew I didn't mean the soccer.

My friend sniffed. "We've got what we can for today. I can talk to her better tomorrow. It'll be all sorted by the end of the week."

Listening to her talk like that, I almost believed it. Enough that I could smile and nod, like that word didn't still feel branded on my forehead, eyelids, brain.

_Possessed._

* * *

**A/N: aaand that concludes Part One! I hope it was suitably confusing but compelling. As I may have mentioned elsewhere (or not, I can't remember) my aim is to practice my suspense writing. **

**Thank you for the lovely lovely reviews on my last chapter! And there are a lot of accurate guesses out there for what's to come… ;) As stormyskies73 perfectly put it, this is **_**my **_**way too of not going mad waiting for "Terminal"! I just had too many ideas to contain about the final book, ha. (Although I really hope Brendan does as he wants to and continues on the series after "Terminal". I love the Pack way too much.)**

**Tune in next time for Part Two… !**


	11. prologue II

**Prologue II**

The tracker smiled. In the light of their computer screen, the room black as fate, their teeth gleamed bright white. Almost supernaturally white.

_Oh, Chancey. _Round and round the blocks again, looking for his lost friends. Even with the new nose he'd developed, Mr Claybourne was hopelessly wound up, and even further from locating those pets than when he'd begun. _Ring a ring of roses_…

The dogs were perfectly happy in the shed the tracker had left them in. Left only at the bottom of their garden, large though it was, the dogs were easily accessible for food, water, air. But no walks. That wouldn't do, not when so many precautions had been taken to ensure their secrecy. Just in case Chance managed to wildly exceed expectations. Which was unlikely, but not impossible, after all.

He wouldn't recover these pets, and even if he was on the right trail, the tracker would know. Every movement, every phone screen, they would see. They weren't even that used to technology – certainly not the sort of person you'd expect to own an up-to-date kitted-out macbook, let alone a decent volume of hacking and tracking knowledge.

The Claybourne heir didn't so much as turn off his background apps, silly boy. But it had proved surprisingly handy when Victoria added herself on that GPS app, the fool.

Everyone around here knew who she was after the nationwide news story of her bringing down the Gamemaster. That was a psychopath and a half! Not to mention her Bolton reputation. No, the tracker could tell from these not to underestimate her.

But interest had been truly sparked when Chance was talking to her at the art show nearly a fortnight ago. And a week ago she had popped up on Chance's iFollow, making her incredibly easy to track, even if Morris Island reception was dodgy. This had been done before. One would've thought the silly girl would delete all traces of such a dangerous app right there and then, for all the good it had done her before.

But no. Victoria seemed a darn sight less stupid than Chance in some ways, but just as stupidly unskilled in the department of common sense. She'd managed to bring down the psycho; Chance never realised anything was up with their little crew for a _whole year._

It didn't matter anyway. All the tracker wanted was just that – track them, trail them, train an eye on them at all eyes.

No "what then"s were currently under consideration.

* * *

**A/N: short 'n' sweet. More clues soon…!**

**However, I've just seen some of the big new Virals news (aka. the blurb release). See my profile for a discussion on that. Not sure how it'll impact "Catalyst" because this was originally intended to be my idea of how "Terminal" would turn out. How close to Brendan's hints do you think I should stay?**

**Plus today is the first day of my summer holidays! Hello six weeks of reading lists and projects, but at home, yay! Next time: Cooper cuddles, big news, Candela's lab rats.**


	12. 2 - 1

**Part Two: Analysed**

**10.**

I dodged questions all dinner, saying little if anything. Only knowing I couldn't raise Kit's suspicions kept me functioning. Then I bolted, dragging Coop with me and barring the door.

As my Mac booted up, I pulled the wolfdog onto my lap with difficulty. Clamping my arms around him, I buried my face in his fur. Coop didn't seem to mind the cram, settling his head and front paws on the arm of my desk chair. Maybe he sensed my inner tempest, or sniffed it.

I was far more shaken up over Violet's… confession… than I cared to admit to anyone. Myself included.

It needed to be shared with the other Virals, so it was handy I had already called that meeting for ten minutes' time. It gave me a sliver of headspace.

When I clicked over to our video conference, only Shelton was on, so I played with Cooper while first Hi, then Ben, popped up.

"Hey guys. Thanks for joining." I smiled, already feeling sick from the news I had to break. After Violet's issue, though. "I have two – "

"Holy crap." Hi looked up from his Nutella for the first time and almost dropped the jar. "Tor, you look terrible."

"So do you. Never seen wet hair before?"

"Sure have, but I've also seen pictures of Plague victims, and you also look like one of them."

"Thanks, Jake Gyllenhaal, call me when you win your Hottest Male award." I was fully playing defence now. Ironically.

"You are looking pretty ill, Tory," Shelton said, peering at the screen with a worried crease between his eyes. Ben, at least, wasn't giving me a doctorly look of diagnosis, but that didn't stem my irritation.

"So what if I'm not looking sunshine and daisies? If that's how I'm looking now, prepare to look ten times worse yourself in five minutes' time," I snapped. "I have two things I need to say, that you need to hear. Feel free to arse around after that."

I checked each segment; the boys seemed suitably taken aback for me to relate the problems without stupid jokes peppered in. Not that I was a good person for forcing them into this. _Way to isolate yourself from the pack when you need them most, Brennan._

I took a deep breath, ducking to tuck Coop's back under my chin. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bitch at you. But, um, firstly I was at soccer practice today and one of the other defenders – Violet Stanley, her father's a Reverend somewhere – she wouldn't so much as receive a pass from me.

"Ella called her out on it, and she eventually told us that her Daddy's told her to avoid any contact with – with me."

"What? Why?" Ben's first words today sounded scathing. I wondered if he'd feel the same way once we finished the VidCon.

Unlikely. It would change everything.

"Because Madison's been telling everyone at her Church that I'm possessed," I said heavily.

"_What?_"

"Dayum."

"Why?"

I dropped my gaze from the screen, where the boys' incredulous faces sat, to Cooper's grey fur. Ran my hands through it, prompting him to rub his body upwards. "I think we can guess why she thinks that."

"I meant, why now?" Hi pointed a finger-gun at me. "She saw your eyes last July. You went psychic on her like six months ago. What's new?"

"Her church? Nah, wait. Her counsellor. She's not been in therapy that long."

"She's in _therapy?_" Ben's shock prompted me to look his way. I wanted to bury my face in my hands. But that wouldn't do.

I just nodded jerkily instead. "I feel like pond scum about it."

"First Chance, then Madison. Our body count is too high." Hi shook his head, setting the Nutella aside.

"Is there anyone else who's seen some of our powers but we haven't yet turned crazy?" Shelton asked, anxiety tingeing his tone.

Ben screwed up his face. Which prompted the answer from my brain.

"Oh – oh no, no, we are are not turning Jason into a _third _Tory-hating mental patient. Third time lucky says we succeed this time. How hard is it to keep acquaintances sane? At least Chance and Maddy hated me already. Jason's a … buddy."

"Buddy. Right." I ignored Ben and his unimpressed tone. "Doesn't matter anyway if Madison spreads this crap. Everyone will know."

"They won't have evidence," Shelton pointed out.

"Good stories never came from _evidence,_" Hi scoffed.

"So as long as our flares stay under control, I'm safe?" I knotted my fingers in Cooper's fur. "Well that's clearly not a problem, because my flares are obviously under control. Didn't that list I sent you demonstrate just how in control I am?"

I sucked in a shuddering breath, too close to losing emotional control. Closed my eyes as my friends chipped in support.

"We'll figure it out, Tory."

"We always do."

"It's what Virals do."

There it was. That word that no longer just meant Pack strength.

I couldn't stay silent. "That is what Virals do. But it's what our pack isn't doing. I mean – we're no longer getting anywhere." Glancing up at their expressions, I noted confusion to narrow-eyed suspicion; pushed on regardless. "Guys, I – I need to find out what's going wrong, because with all this? I'm scared. And I don't want to stay like this."

Hi's mild confusion dropped into and expression of open-mouthed horror as he realised. _One down. _I pushed on.

"I want to know what's gone wrong. So I've –" swallow "– texted Chance. Candela can have me."

"Tory, no!" Shelton.

"No – we said – no – " Hi.

"_What?_" Ben hit his table so hard the camera shook. Bit out every word forcefully. "We said. We said no testing until Claybourne has our trust."

"I'm not saying we all have to do it. You can do whatever you want. But I have to at least tell you." I gripped Coop's fur tighter.

"Tory. Please. Don't – just…" Hi shook his head, as if trying to remove the realisation from his head. "You can't."

"I can. I have to."

"But why have you volunteered – and early too – to be a lab rat?" Shelton was aghast.

"Because I'm so freaking terrified that my mind's about to untether from my body at any moment. Because our flares can come and go without warning. Because I'm hearing people's actual thoughts in my mind – which I _don't _think dogs can do either, which makes me doubly mental. Pick any one of those." My voice was shaking. I clamped my arms full around Cooper and buried my face in his fur; the boys kept on talking.

"We can sort that alone," Shelton tried. "It's not that weird."

"I bet dogs can mind-read. Psychic mutts. Just another normal Veterinary Practice 101." Hi didn't sound like he was convincing himself with that terrible attempt at light-hearted.

"I'm doing it," I mumbled. We weren't getting anywhere with delusions.

"Tory." Ben sounded neutral. "Tory. _Victoria Grace._" That made me look up, sceptical of Ben's reaction if he'd used the full name. "I'm coming with you."

I gaped, not prepared for this. As the words sank in, my body had the least expected reaction of all.

Relaxing. Eyes dampening embarrassingly. Ben was coming with me?

Even after all we'd said – his reasonable terms – we were going to enter Chance's laboratory together.

And there wasn't even anything really wrong with Ben. It was all for me.

I smiled gratefully, putting all the emotional overload into that one expression. "Thank you."

My eyes stayed on his quarter of the screen. Ben offered me a smile up to one side, the underlying nervousness in both of us needing no further words.

The moment broke when Shelton let out a loud groan and leaned over the back of his garage chair to wing his phone at the floor beanbag. It landed on target, just. "Don't do it, Hiram!"

Hi – evidently texting Shelton – held up his own phone in surrender. "I'm not telling you to."

"Damn you." Shelton put his head on the keyboard. "Once Tory goes, Ben goes, you go, and I go. The pack stays together." He thumped his head once. "I thought we weren't going to volunteer for this until we found the stupid mutts?"

"I can't wait any longer," I said quietly. "There's too much at stake. Too much danger. You don't have to come – anyone. This is different from our normal – well, usual – adventures."

"No. It's just the same." Shelton sat back, face slightly squished and bouncing side to side. "In danger again. Lives threatened. Unsolved mysteries. It's so Viral I never should have put my money against it. Damn you, Stolowitski."

Hi snickered. "We've been on the waiting list from day one, dude. Never bet against Tory. Can't believe you don't remember that after all this time."

Shelton sighed, rolled his eyes. "Alrighty. Imma go count out my savings. Keep me updated." His square winked into darkness, and Hi rubbed his hands together, wearing his 'miserly villain' expression.

"I gotta go collect Shelton's debt. See you in a few. Not," he added, half-off the chair but pointing the Nutella jar at the camera, "that this stops us being both pissed off and nervous as hell about what you've done, Tor, but we'll be over it by tomorrow lunchtime. Laters."

Hi's segment blinked off too, and my screen transitioned to split Ben and I a half each. Blown up to half-Mac size, I could appreciate anew the boys' worry about me. I really did look like a zombie. It was a wonder nobody had tried to quote _The Walking Dead _at me.

"Ben?" The word came out weaker than I'd wanted to sound. But I had nothing more to offer.

He gave me a small, gentle smile. "It's – it'll be okay, Tory."

"But – how? How is this going to be okay in any way?" I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. "I'm sorry. I asked for it. And you're just trying to help me feel better. You don't have to come to watch me face the consequences of my own stupid, _stupid _decisions. Or stupid consequences of okay decisions that I should have seen coming back round to bite me."

This was the product of my body's reaction over the last year, _my _reaction over that time. I felt like the substrate me had been catalysed into a different product in the catalyst of time and virus.

I sucked a deep, shaking breath. Tried not to lose it.

I was close to the edge here.

"You did what you had to, to protect us. Don't regret that." Ben leaned forward and smiled properly at me. A full-face, teeth-flashing, eye-crinkling smile that warmed me for a moment. "And of course I'm not leaving you. Wouldn't consider it, ever. Not for a second – not even when I'm angry and say stupid stuff. I've always got your back."

"Thanks, Ben." I said it slowly so the words would mean more as I smiled through watery vision. There was nothing more I had to say than those words.

"Are we needing me to chauffeur at some point, then?"

"Is tomorrow too early?" I grimaced, palming my eyes, glad of the return to the short return to light-hearted topics. "Chance's suggestion."

"No. Better not to give you more time. We know what you're like with overthinking, so now we're doing the best thing… better to get started now. I mean," Ben grasped for the words, "all the stuff you've got going wrong? It's scary. Too big for us."

I swallowed. "Thanks for understanding." Coop stood up on my lap, or tried to, so I unwound my arms and let him wander around my room. I watched him for a second before turning back to the screen. "God. This sounds stupid, but I really miss you being here. Like, opposite Kit's place."

"I've got weekends," Ben offered, "but I know. Feels like – like half my life is missing. Replaced by…"

"We're still here," I promised. "We'll just have to make every second count for more than it already did."

Ben nodded, shifting his arms to fidget in his lap.

If I was there, I'd have taken an arm and pulled it away, tucking myself under instead. But we were separated by an hour's road of Lowcountry, and neither of us were touchy-feely people, and all we ever did was circle in arguments so we could never work at a relationship while the pack stood.

But I needed him, and I wanted more.

Before I could think twice about the rubbish cliché, I said quietly, "I wish I was with you now. Beside you."

The words almost made me cringe, but Ben only flushed slightly. "Tomorrow. We'll be back… together… tomorrow."

I blinked away the tired-tears, jumping as the connecting music filled my speakers. Hi, coming back the chat.

I couldn't face him now. I hit the disconnect button, grabbing my phone and shooting Ben a text before he freaked.

**Sorry for quitting. Couldn't deal with Hi/anyone else.**

A reply pinged almost instantly. **It's all good. I did the same.**

That almost made me laugh. I went to grab Coop just as a knock came.

"Tory?" Kit.

I went to the door, unlocking before throwing my arms around him. Squeezed hard. It took my dad only a second to hug me back.

"Hey, cub. You okay? I thought I could hear you getting a bit…" He trailed off, unsure. I looked up at him.

"It's just some of this school stuff. It's pretty overwhelming. I might go with the boys to Ella's for a revision session tomorrow to sort it. But thanks, Dad."

"S'okay. You definitely alright?" He peered closely at my face. "You've never been that worried about school."

"Some of the girls have been saying nasty things too," I admitted. The rumour might get back to him anyhow. "About me. But I'm over it now. I've got Ella."

"Tom said you'd sorted it out with Ben, too."

"Yeah. All four of us are… good, again."

"Well, good."

I smiled and released Kit. "Thanks for checking."

"No problem. It's in my job description, right?"

"Probably. Somewhere." I turned away, back into my room.

"Wait, Tor. Make sure you're back from your study session in time to cook with Whit, okay?"

"Sure thing." _Grr. _

I had mended my fences on multiple accounts now. The weight off my shoulders was a giant relief. But now to get through tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N: Welcome to Part Two! I promise I won't bring out ~~all the dialogue~~ for all chapters. That was pretty heavy. I started forgetting the speech marks, ha. The first draft of this also my first writing for JulNoWriMo 2014 (which at the time of posting I am majorly stuck on). I'm going on holiday for a couple of weeks now - with wifi so I should be able to update as per my usual schedule - but the packing and school holiday work has been insane, so I'm really sorry about the delay getting this chapter up :( **

**What are your feelings on single-scene chapters? I'm just interested as to how they work compared to multiple-scene chapters :) Next time: Susan, Azad and adverse effects.**


	13. 2 - 2

**11.**

As the instructions told us, we walked down the block. Around a corner. Crossed the street. I kept whipping my head around to check for Madison – or Jason – or anyone who might recognised the target car as Chance's BMW. He had insisted, after my confirmation text last night, on taking us personally to his little Brimstone lab, "to show Benjamin the polite route for next time".

I hadn't passed that particular sentiment on to the boys. Better to not bring the battle to them.

Now we were close, I could make out shapes through the tinted glass. Ben was stiffly sat shotgun. I relaxed a little, grateful to be spared that particular trial for today. Shelton raised a hand towards the window I guessed Chance was looking out of. The desire to run screaming for the hills was almost overpowering, but broke when Hi swept the passenger door open and I was forced to jump aside.

Shelton jogged to the left. Ever the gentleman, Hi gestured for me to enter the dark car first. I peered in: smaller than expected; leather-clad, of course; an impatient Claybourne chauffeur tapping his fingers on the wheel.

"I can't, you go first," I hissed over my shoulder. Hi snorted.

"My body is not built for the narrow plinth that is the middle seat. Unless you want to be suffocated."

"Well I'm wearing a skirt, and I'm not flashing my underwear for Chance and all the oncoming traffic of Charleston! Scram."

"Fine, fine." We piled in. As Hiram predicted, even buckling up was difficult. And I immediately regretted breathing in through my nose.

_Note to self: when breathing in Hi's armpit, use your mouth only._

The ride was suitably awkward, peppered only by small talk and heavy anticipation. Hi and Shelton didn't even attempt their usual banter, which made the silences seem to stretch even further. But I couldn't concentrate on the route, totally focused inward until with a jolt, I realised Chance was flashing his ID at the gate guards and swinging us into Candela's central drive.

Candela Pharmaceuticals. The cluster of imposing factory-like buildings was even more imposing from this angle, where they seemed to close in above. Sort of like a larger-scale, more menacing version of LIRI. If LIRI abused animals, not rehabilitated them.

We were slowly driven past clumps of pharmacologists, cacti features and occasional benches. Past the main buildings, up a slope, Chance parked in a small lot by the back entrance we were already acquainted with. Wordlessly, everyone piled out.

The tension was thick enough to slice.

Chance locked the car over his shoulder, turning away to walk and talk. "I don't expect this 'project' to be a walk in the park for any of us, but I do promise I'm not a monster. Anything you're not pleased with, say. We can change it. You can leave whenever, because you are here voluntarily, though I'm sure Susan and Azad would prefer you to stay. We are a team now," he commented over his shoulder, punching in a long code to the heavy-duty deep-set door. "All of us are a team. And you know what keeps teams running?"

"Mutual threat of destruction?" Hi suggested.

"Mutual _trust._ If –"

"So what's the code for the outside door, then? Going to trust us with that?" Ben challenged. Chance raised an eyebrow as we filed into the narrow, pristinely white corridor. Shelton almost elbowed me in the face as he tugged madly on the stress-earlobe.

"If you play nicely today, of course you may. Now…"

Down. Along the right. Fifth door on the left. The laboratory route was imprinted in my brain immediately. It wouldn't do to get lost in this maze.

My pack hovered in the doorway, staring around the bright room. Four benches were wiped shiny clean, stools neatly pushed under, walls achingly blank. What had happened in this roomy lab before? It wouldn't be unused, surely, so what discoveries or trials had it seen?

Chance ushered us in then disappeared to find the two Brimstone scientists who knew the full truth. He had to have more goons working under him, but I had the feeling Chance was playing his cards close, clutching control through separation of powers. This was an eighth-generation tyrant-businessman, after all.

"Nice security," Shelton whispered to us. Ben and I followed his pointed finger to the mounted cameras in all the corners of the room. "Probably got mics and all."

"They will now, anyway. No more dog thievery mistakes here. Hiram!" He didn't even look up, too busy rooting through the workstation equipment cupboards with an air of chemistry-induced mania. I bent down and tried to shut the door on him, but he merely batted me away and tapped the nearest clamp stand excitedly.

"You know what this equipment set makes for?"

"No?"

"A _Langendorff _Experiment. Whew. What I wouldn't do to conduct one…" Hi whistled, moved to shuffling through conical flasks on the shelf below. My interest was piqued, however.

"Langendorffs? No way. What size heart? I assume that's what we're working with." I gestured at the neatly-arranged equipment tray. Hi peered, shaking his head.

"Can't tell. Rodent, probably."

"Aren't you against using rodent hearts for whatever that experiment is?" Shelton's reproachful tone prompted me to stand again.

"If it's not actual animal cruelty, I have a hard time deciding what the name of science justifies," I admitted. "I'll have to get back to you."

"… no news yet." Chance pushed open the lab door, followed by a thirtysomething Middle Eastern man and older blonde woman.

_Our scientists. _Here to experiment on us. The Virals, scientific subjects. With subject codes and notes and results and trials and…

I sucked in a breath, eyes flicking from one to the other. Azad gave us a professional smile, lighting on each of us separately and rubbing his hands together. He seemed to be emanating energy, close-cropped hair almost bristling. His flitting gaze seemed to be dissecting us already; an uncomfortable feeling I tried to divert by shifting my focus to Susan.

The moment I locked eyes with her, a coldness washed over me. The older woman – probably around my Aunt Tempe's age – wasn't examining the rest of my pack but remained on me, and only me, not even flinching at my contest. In contrast to her partner, her only movements were robotically measured, so I immediately pinned her as hypersensitive of every move made. The thin wire glasses on her nose glinted sharply. I looked away.

"So, everyone," Chance clapped his hands together, toeing the lab door closed, "Azad Negahban and Susan Booker, meet Victoria Brennan, Hiram Stolowitski, Shelton Devers and Benjamin Blue. You lot, Susan and Azad."

I stepped forward, shaking both adults' hands. Tried to smile and hope my hands weren't as clammy as theirs.

"It's Tory," I told them, over Chance's reminder of who did what (Susan more DNA; Azad more behaviourist; lots of overlaps).

"So you're the original Virals, huh?" Azad grinned. He seemed way too comfortable with the situation. But then, he hadn't experienced quite the tumultuous Virals initiation we had, at least knowing what was going on.

If Susan had, would she still be as hard-faced now?

"That would be my wolfdog." I swallowed, let my gaze drop to my laces before dragging it back up. No playing coy. Chance had said we were a team; if I wanted to be helped, I needed to give as much info as possible. "Cooper. Chance didn't grab him today, but our powers usually work fine without him now, anyway."

"Now?" Susan asked, tone mild.

I was suddenly glad of the bench separating scientists from pack. "We've found that for most of our time as Virals, Coop acts as an amplifier of sorts for our abilities," I explained haltingly. Azad pulled a notebook from his checked-shirt pocket and began scribbling notes.

"And what sort of powers are those?" Susan continued.

"For the ones independent of my dog, our individual powers, it's sensory increase and a lot more energy. But for our pack stuff – like, forcing others to flare, speaking to their minds, seeing through their eyes –"

"Reading our minds," Hi muttered.

"– Coop helps a lot." I took a deep breath. _Relax. Tell them._ "But… in the last month or so, we've been snupping out of our flares randomly."

"Or snapping in," Shelton added, clearing his throat before adding, "or just not getting in in the first place."

Hi coughed. The courage cough. "Tory's been getting most of the problems, though. Us three have just had those three problems. She's been getting these… 'voice knockouts', I think you call them?" I nodded at him. "With people's thoughts shouting and dropping to the floor. And these creepy disconnections of mind from body. Which might help her mind-read but we have to injure her to get her back."

The dam had officially burst on our spill of information, of previously closely-guarded secrets. I carried on the listing. "And ever since I got that weird awareness of Chance, I've started getting it in other places too. Er… I think that's all."

"That's all?" Chance stared at me. "No wonder you gave in and came to us. I'm sure Benjamin wasn't best pleased."

"Ben was the first to volunteer to come here with me," I fired back.

"Okay, great great, thanks for that," Azad leapt in. "Now about your 'pack' – is there the typical wolfpack structure to you? Like an alpha, alpha pair, beta, omega situation?"

"What's what again? All that Latin muddles me." Hi's confused lines wrinkled his forehead.

"Greek. Alphas are the leaders, often head of the family, since packs are often just a family hierarchy. They're shown by displays of dominance, often a mated pair. Betas below them hunt. Omegas are the lowest, absorbing the aggression to keep an equilibrium, doing the menial tasks and getting least reward. I don't know how they might play out on a human level, though. It's completely unstudied, for the moment." Azad grinned widely at us, displaying a wide row of white teeth.

"No mated pairs," I said hastily, "just me, I think." I glanced sideways at the boys. "And no omegas. If anyone is bottom, it's Chance."

Ben snorted. "Sounds about right."

"Nice, great. So can we grab some DNA samples off you lot to start with and we'll see where we can go from there?"

Half an hour on, there were samples of our hair, nails, blood and urine for Susan and Azad's neatly-labelled test tubes. They also had all our fingerprints, retina scans, and skin cell samples. I was beginning to feel like we were up for cloning, or a jigsaw of bodily clues for discarding on crime scenes.

No panic was setting in yet, though, despite the truly odd situation. Maybe because I had imagined this too many times. Maybe it was so surreal my panic sensors were only registering a dreamlike state.

Maybe I was just glad to share the weight of our secret with someone after so long, even if that someone was giving me cold stares and taking away my feeling of control.

The others weren't doing too badly either. Ben was remaining stiffly emotionless about every procedure, although I did catch him almost bite through his lip when blood was being taken. Shelton yanked madly on his ear but I had expected mad shaking. Hi was dealing by getting way into the evidence collection, examining the DNA collection jars and baggies, firing Azad as many questions as he could (delightedly) answer.

Chance sat at the back, watching over us all like a Zeus wannabe. The narrow-eyed focus betrayed his keen interest, whatever he pretended by the nonchalant phone-checking. As I carried my yet-empty urea sample by, I told him, "I need to be home by six at the latest, Mr Chauffeur." I received only a hand wave in acknowledgement.

Whatever. I could rip IV lines out if I wasn't getting home. It wasn't even that I wanted to get back particularly, since all I had to look forward to was cooking with Whitney. I just knew that I couldn't violate this line in the sand, that one which Chance often walked, for any of our sakes. Having to stay for longer and then face Whitney moaning about how late we were starting cooking would have me create a hell nobody wanted to see.

As Susan finished up potting Shelton's blood sample and he held the compress to his tricep, Azad drew us in, close enough in that I could read his tiny name badge. AZAD NEGAHBAN. No title, position, photo except the Candela logo.

Always paranoid.

"Awesome, cool. So we've got a whole load of info from you and now we'd like to possibly get you to – flare? – right, flare, and compare them again. This could be super important for comparing hormone concentration, changes in the bloodstream, potentially checking your amino acid sequencing in vital proteins, DNA base sequences… we want to do a lot of this comparative biomolecular trialling because I know this can't be fun for you guys so we want to work together to make this as easy as situation as possible for everyone. Okay?" Azad's quick words belied his nervous eye-locking with each of us in turn. I nodded.

"Wait," Ben spoke up from behind me, "didn't you think our flare pain might come from proximity to Chance?"

"Could it be all the pack, though – Azad too?" I added, frowning. Good job one of us was thinking straight. "And it's not just step-outside-please distance. Like, Chance-is-in-the-same-block distance."

"Really?" That only seemed to capture Azad's curiosity further. Susan looked up from her labelling, frowning under her specs. "Huh. Well we'll investigate that later, but for now we'll see how much pain you guys are in. It'd be best if we could grab the samples real quick while you're stuck in that limbo."

I glanced at my pack in our loose semicircle. Nobody looked thrilled. But we had known we'd be undergoing tests, some of them horrible, forced, painful. And this was just the start. If we didn't make the step up now, we'd never get off the ground.

It didn't feel right to flare deliberately in front of strangers. Anxiety pinched at my nerves enough that the flare was pulling at my subconscious anyway.

I didn't answer but closed my eyes. Sank into that vibrating fibre of fear, allowing it to flood my body to unlock the wolf.

Ben had been right. The flare was strong – way too strong. If we were in public, on the tail of a mystery, I'd have ordered an immediate power down.

Now, it was all I could do to grit my teeth hard and not vomit.

Shelton was on the floor. Hi ran for a sink. Ben was bent double, a low whine escaping his pulled-back lips. I looked up, only to lock onto Susan.

She seemed to take it as a non-verbal cue, unflinchingly sweeping up a prepared needle, rounding the bench, seizing my arm, and stabbing the needle into my tricep. As she sliced my hypersensitive nerves, pain sparked through me in waves.

Susan pulled away. I watched her, senses chaotically bombarded by too much clashing information. The needle was placed down, replaced with another, and she whipped over to Shelton.

Chance was yelling from the back of the room for us to snap out of it. His voice echoed like cannons in my ears. Through tearing eyes, clutching the bench, I looked the question at Susan.

She kept a poker face. "We really need that urine sample for examination. That may hold the key for your endocrine functioning."

I didn't want to do this. I really, really didn't want to endure the tearing pain for a second longer than I had to. But peeing in another pot _was_ something I had to do if we were going to compare bodily fluids for figuring out what I was. There was no choice about whether I wanted to do it or not.

I nearly headbutted the bench, wrenching the cupboard open to scrabble for a flask. I stumbled to the adjoining bathroom, trying my hardest to clamp my shaking body in place. Thinking was just so hard underneath the scar tissue of pain.

Put the flask aside with trembling fingers. Washed my hands. The sensory bombardment was worsening, noise growing louder in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, praying, but the noise separated into muffled voices.

I didn't try to pick up the sample but fired out of the door. We needed a pack power-down ASAP. And my pack...

The colours in front of me abruptly swam, bled and swirled to a psychedelic mush as two of us let the flares go. I couldn't. My mind was preparing to loosen.

All this in a second. My body kept on moving even as my sensory input cut, and I felt myself trip, fall towards the floor. Someone caught me – _foreign touch man_, my brain supplied from somewhere. But then _flare pack man_ was digging his fingers into my shoulders and shouting, closer and closer to my face so I had to listen.

"Tory, snap out of it. Come back, Tory!"

I followed the pull. Fell back into my own body - and literally fell backwards, only Ben's clutch on my shoulders keeping me from hitting the decks.

For several seconds, my muscles clenched harder and harder.

Then, release.

The flare sucked from me like a ball of hot air before explosions. I staggered, and Ben dropped his grip to bend over. I followed, almost going head-over-heels but catching myself on my knees. Ben had always had trouble gaining his flares; now he was having trouble regaining himself.

He had to let it go. I grabbed his lower arm and squeezed, a physical reminder of me. Better than a slap for a first try.

A slow minute later, he stood up straight. I carefully blew out and brought myself onto a stool. Managed a smile.

"Thanks for stopping my thing," I managed.

"No worries. Thanks for the help there." Ben seemed a little shell-shocked but rubbed the back of his neck.

"You know," Chance's voice rose from behind us, "if you ever change your mind about being lab kids, I'm sure the drama schools would love you all. Maybe as a package deal. That was the most dramatic scene since the _Homeland _season finale."

* * *

**A/N: OKAY WOW INTENSE. Hope you enjoyed that long chapter – but are Tory's problems getting irritating? Worrying? This scene was about four times more dramatic a couple of drafts ago and damn I annoyed myself, haha. **

**Also, as a disclaimer, I am a Year 13 (= 12****th**** Grade) student and I'm getting top scores for my Biology A-level, but that does not make me a PhD wolf-human scientist – or any other largely knowledgeable scientist. This and any other scientific info here is either a product of my own studies or of research, so while it should be correct, I am not 100% right the way Kathy and Brendan make sure to be!**


	14. 2 - 3

**12.**

The last thing I wanted to do was return to Candela "in a few days". This was largely down to not wanting to see Chance ever again after that humiliating reduction to semi-human-semi-wolf Tory.

However, I also didn't want to be stood on the dock tugging fingers through my knotty hair at 7am either.

"Wednesday, Friendsday, cheer up Tor!" Hi tried to grab my arm as he sauntered up behind me. I snatched it off him immediately.

"It'll be de-bag day if you keep on grabbing people's war wounds like that."

"I take it your cooking lesson went well then?" Shelton ambled up to us with a wave. I raised a hand back half-heartedly.

"Fabulously, of course. The burn is from my amazing third attempt at a Roux." My finishing skill wasn't, apparently, allowed to be simple cooking – like a spag bol – or even my preferred (and only) methods: microwave muffins or oven pizza. Because in Whitney's world, my opinions didn't even register on her happy-bimbo radar.

Hi sniggered. "No plans to be the next Raymond Blank, then?"

"It's Raymond _Blanc, _genius. And why can't I just, I dunno, learn to foxtrot or play soccer or shoot or something. I can do movement. And science," I tacked on the end.

"Baking _is _a science. I'm almost a Professor in KFC." Hi straightened his tie snootily.

"Get Hi to teach you freestyle rapping. He's a master."

"I don't think masters try to rap _Finnish _with _language, _Shelton."

"Don't be jel 'cause I've got my Finishing skill perfected," Hi said primly, dropping the Windsor Knot he was playing with. "I'm still searching for appreciaters of such true art. If you know of other Mag Leaguers wanting a skill, send them to me. Especially if, you know, they're beautiful and tall with olive skin and long braided hair."

"Yeah, your art is so 'true' nobody else can recognise it." Shelton rolled his eyes and hustled on board _Hugo _as Tom began unmooring. I just shook my head, following them on board and watching the edge of the boat so I didn't slip in. I didn't trust my instincts these days as well as I used to.

Almost to prove the point, I ended up nearly falling back into the dock when Shelton halted right where he was. "Oi!" I rubbed my nose reproachfully.

"Sorry. Hi, did you just describe Ella?"

I leaned out to face Hi, an eyebrow raised, as he whipped around, cheeks already reddening.

"Ella? Who? I mean – no, I know who she is, and no, I – never –"

"Pathetic. Worst cover-up ever. I thought you were meant to be the one who's good at lying?" Shelton resumed embarking with head-shakes and I followed.

"But seriously Hi, you've got such tough game around her – such confidence and collection and coolness – it'll be a miracle if she's not begging you to marry her," I teased.

He huffed, plonking down on the bench in irritation. "All this cruel mocking will cost me thousands of dollars in therapy in years to come. A hundred shrinks, I can see them all now, parading before me."

"You do have one thing going for you," I told Hi cheerily, ignoring his ramble and bolstered by thinking about other people's problems. "You can actually speak in front of her. Yes, the words are complete rubbish, but they're still one up from Shelton's complete silence."

Hi whooped and raised the roof. Shelton protested it was his game: be more appealing by being somebody who wasn't as obnoxious as Hi. We joked about for the rest of the way to school, an excellent spirit-raiser after yesterday's evening.

The long and short of it was that Hi wanted to spend more time with my beautiful friend. His time distracting her in Karl Gruber's garden couldn't have gone as terribly as that weird lunch if he was so hung up on talking to her again.

I was more than happy for them to hang out if nobody was uncomfortable about the situation. The only problem was, I suspected – okay, I_ knew_ – Ella didn't see Hi as anything but a little boy. Maybe a friend. Not whatever adoration Hi heaped on her. And I didn't want to not help him should he ask for it… but I didn't want to put Ella in an awkward situation either. It would all end in disaster that way, a sure friendship-breaker.

I just had to pray Hi wouldn't ask for help in a specific plan. I would give him what I could, and after that?

I ignored the _after that _bit, since it might never come and I could then happily live out my schooldays bouncing between Ella and the Pack like nobody ever had feelings for their friends. Like nobody ever had feelings that could split up closer-than-family groups because they were realised, or because they weren't, or because they were and then it ended in disaster. Just like every other relationship I had formed in my life.

_Doesn't mean you stop trying, though. Stay stubborn._

If only I knew what I wanted to be stubborn about and stand by, though.

* * *

"So three of the four factors affecting the rate of reaction are enzyme concentration, substrate concentration, and temperature. What else?"

"The amount of substrate?"

"Substrate _volume, _Mr. O'Hare. And no. Anyone else?"

"pH value?"

"_Yes._ The active site will be affected by the –"

_Bzz bzz. _

I couldn't resist slipping out my phone beneath the bench and checking. Enzyme reactions were snooze-worthy and I could have passed the exam we were revising for in my sleep. Ella was clearly bored too in Government &amp; Politics.

**Fabulous fair in town 2nite. You game? XOXO**

I weighed up the pros and cons. I wanted to go, if I could get a ride. But Tom wouldn't be back in Charleston when LIRI had its busy Wednesday night late session. Kit would be there to lead the turtle sleep behaviours investigations. Whitney had flower-arranging club, or quilting club, or something as dumb and uninteresting as I could think of. Not that I particularly wanted a ride from her anyways.

That left… Ben. And if Ben was driving me around, he should come. He was my friend, I wanted him to come. And that left Shelton and Hi coming too, because we stuck together. Since this morning's revelation, I reckoned Hi would be even more eager about coming. What a good friend I was.

_As if. _That particular title was flushed down the toilet with the Candela contract.

**Sounds fab! But would u mind if I brought the gang? They're my only ride… sorry xoxo**

I bit my lip. That sounded so bad. I'd already forced the boys on Ella last Friday, now I was doing it again?

The reply came after a moment. **The more the merrier! Just plz don't get separated from me again? XOXO**

**Yay, sounds gr8! Str8 there? Xoxo**

**Starts at 5, let's meet 6. Need 2 change anyway. XOXO**

**Awesome, c ya there xoxo**

I looked up, grinning around at the class. A fair with Ella sounded fun, although she didn't sound keen to be stranded with Hi again. Couldn't have everything.

I fired a text to the boys then brought my attention back to the class. Accidentally caught Jason's eye as I swept my eyes to the front. I smiled widely, and he returned with a dazzling smile before turning quickly towards the front again, not even trying to communicate. What was that about?

I shook my head and concentrated on the lecture slides.

I didn't get the chance to focus for more than thirty seconds; the tannoy sounded, school secretary clearing her throat through the crackly echoes.

"Victoria Brennan to the Headmaster's office now please, Victoria Brennan to the Headmaster's office."

Everyone in the room turned to fix me with a stare. With a nod from the teacher and head-jerk towards the door, I gathered my books and pens. Poured them into my bag. Met Shelton and Hi's eyes for a second each as I sped for the door, but avoided checking Jason's. Whispers broke out, rising in volume as I shut the door behind me.

I had just as many questions as my classmates. What – why – when – who – how? I concentrated on reaching Headmaster Paugh's office in as little time as possible. Declan Paugh was not well-known for his tolerance of time-wasters.

One hall, two, crossing the high ivy-decked courtyard, set of steps, another hall, rapping on Paugh's heavy wooden door as assertively as possible. Then I stepped back and waited.

Two minutes thirty-eight seconds later, the door creaked open and a man stepped out. Middle-aged, badly receding hairline, and… dog collar? _Churchman, genius. _My eyes travelled up to his face and made the connection. He was the spit of Violet Stanley.

This must be the rumour-spreading father.

I narrowed my eyes and opened my mouth to speak to him. Before I could, Reverend Stanley had moved away, eyes now fixed on the corridor ahead, and Headmaster Paugh called me in.

I stepped inside hesitantly, bowing my head in deference to Paugh. Didn't want to get on his bad (worse?) side. The Bald Eagle himself was hunched up, sporting a pressed shirt of vibrant purple and tweed blazer, but even this outfit was less eye-aching than the thunderous expression he wore. He didn't offer to let me sit in either of the large leather chairs, but pointed for me to stand in front of his massive desk.

There was one other person in the room, and I examined her curiously. Long, tangled, blonde hair; pale to brown organic-looking clothing; stubby leather hippie sandals: she was not the style of young adult I would have assumed our dear headmaster had time for. I would have expected her to be turned out on the street before he was so much as seen with her. And really, the better question was, who then was she that he let her in here?

"Miss Brennan." I immediately switched my gaze to fix on Paugh as he rubbed his hands together twitchily. "We need to have a little chat about some of your recent behaviour that has come to light."

"Behaviour, sir?" If I had been caught for all the skiving, why was this woman in the office too? Or was she just a government reviewer not actually for me?

Of course, answering either my spoken or unspoken questions would have been too simple for Paugh. "Miss Brennan, this is Miss Greenberg. Miss Greenberg, Miss Brennan."

"Pleasure." She stuck out her hand but didn't move from the seat, carefully watching me as I walked to her and shook her hand. Neither of us smiled.

"Miss Greenberg is an independent therapist who has been receiving several of our students as regular clients as of late. While she is in a position of confidentiality, Miss Greenberg may divulge information of a dangerous nature. Lately, sensitive information has come to light concerning yourself." Headmaster Paugh slid half-moon glasses onto his nose, keeping me pinned to the wall the whole time. My stomach rolled at the direction this was taking.

"This student wishes to remain anonymous, as it was Miss Greenberg's idea to have this little _chat,_ but I think you're cleverer than that. How many students do _you _think you've scared to therapy with this possessed demon nonsense?"

I blanched. "Sir, I never –"

"Quiet!" he barked. "Miss Greenberg has requested an 'open session' with you. I have a vested interest in its outcome. You will listen to her. Now, Miss Greenberg, over to you."

"Thanks, Mr Paugh." I turned to the lounging counsellor, who was watching me and twirling hair with the slow ease of a cat on a wall. "Call me Crystal. And Tory – is it okay if I call you that? – I don't want to upset you or anything. I just want to hear your side of the story, what you think is going on. Maybe we can work together to help restore a little… sanity, and sanitation, to the situation."

"Whatever Madison's said about me, I really don't know why. I haven't done anything to her except call her out on her bullying – which _she _chose to stage in public – and say 'boo' to her in the toilets after." I struggled to keep my voice from wavering into frustration. "I don't know why she'd think _this_."

Crystal didn't seem at all fazed by my denial. "So do you know Madison's full story about this?"

_Yes. _"I've heard rumours of what she thinks about me, but I don't know what could make her think this, so I don't really know what she believes."

"Well we're just trying to get to the bottom of a mutual bump in the road here. What rumours have you heard about yourself?" Crystal leant forward, leather bracelets sliding her tanned, unexpectedly muscled arms as she propped her chin on a fist.

I didn't want to play this game. I was not a paying client of hers, so she shouldn't be treating me like one. But I was beginning to sense that there wouldn't be an easy way out of this prison. I would have to play along.

"I… I've heard I'm possessed. There's a demon in me, or that I'm a demon, and I'll possess other people to turn away from the Lord. Although I have no idea _why _she's got that idea because what bad things have I done?" I put a hand on my heart, pulled out my upset face. No harm in dramatics.

"Madison says you have eyes that glow like a demon's, and that you can read minds. In the fall you tried to possess her body and throw her own conscience out." Crystal carefully said this without so much as a trace of disdain or disbelief.

Crap. She really believed Madison.

I was in deep water here.

"I'm pretty sure I can't do either of those cool tricks. I'll have to stick with contact lenses, thanks. And reading minds? Why would I even have time for that when I was busy trying to save lives from the Gamemaster in the fall?"

"Respect, Brennan," Paugh snapped. I nodded without looking at him. _Time to bring out the big guns, then._

"Miss Greenberg, I said 'boo' to Madison straight after I had brutally taken her down – verbally – in public. It wasn't our finest moment, for either of us, and she was very upset that her long-time victim had turned on her. I don't appreciate her trying to ruin my credibility now, as a catty revenge.

"For whatever genuine distress I have caused Madison, I am sorry." I tried my hardest to sound sincere and perfect-Christian-girl. "If talking to her will help the healing, I will gladly do anything for her. I have forgiven her for the distress she has caused me over the years, and I would love to help her do the same."

"This is not a question of forgiveness, Tory." _Stop using my nickname. _My mouth tightened as Crystal pouted a little, her expression rather at odds with the clinical language used."It is of a girl's mental health, which _you_ have damaged quite severely. Now that I have seen your side of the story, I will be glad to report your… sentiments to my client. We may need to meet again, so I'm glad you are so glad to assist Madison. She'll be equally as glad, I am sure."

"Oh, I'd be very _glad _to help." I manufactured a smile to flash at Crystal. The word was starting to sound weird.

"So great! I think we're done here." The therapist pushed out of the chair and curtseyed neatly to the headmaster. "Thank you for conducting this meeting, sir. It has been an honour."

"All mine, Miss Greenberg," Paugh said curtly. "You are dismissed too, Miss Brennan. Do try to not possess anyone else in the meantime."

"Thank you, sir," I answered stiffly, following the flowing hair and skirts out of the door, fixing my most furious glare at the Vegan sandals. If looks could set shoes alight and trap their owners' feet inside…

I turned off as soon as I could, heading for the nearest water closet. English had just begun, but Mr Edde would have to suck it up for today: no way was I going straight back to class this shaken up and empty of cover story.

I could tell the truth, but that would prompt further questions, not to mention rumours. And the Tripod were in English. I couldn't face Madison or I might strangle her over Milton. Not that it would be such a loss, but Chance might get a little mad if I killed his girlfriend for spreading semi-true rumours about me. Everyone else would love it. Ashley Bodford might throw me a bloody party.

As I pushed open the bathroom door, I shook my head. Ashley Bodford throwing me a party? Pigs would sooner fly.

* * *

**A/N: Omigosh I'm so sorry about the long wait. Almost a fortnight? I'm really sorry, I **_**will **_**be better now the holiday stuff has calmed down a little. The only excuse I have is that my writer's block has been really bad of late, I've got a massive block in the middle of a sentence for the chapter I'm currently writing, which has kept me very uninspired for "Catalyst". Doesn't help that I haven't been able to figure out how I want to revise my Parts 3 &amp; 4 plan. It's all conspired to keep me from editing this chapter properly, until now.**

**So I hope this wasn't too bitty. I enjoyed the pace change from writing one-scene-per-chapter. But what do you think of Crystal, and Paugh, and Madison?! Is this inevitable for Tory – a deserved karma strike – or unfortunate coincidence?**

**Next time: candyfloss, hook-a-duck, and scratches (and more) in the dark…**


	15. 2 - 4

**13.**

"Whack-a-mole? Does that even exist at fairgrounds?"

"Shut it. It's more fun than your 'romantic hook-a-duck' any day, Stolowitski."

Virals. Ford Explorer. Destination: fairground.

"You're both idiots," Ben pronounced. "The higher the ride, the better. Tallest ride _beats_."

"Ferris wheels are more interesting without safety bars," I mused. "Too slow. And predictable."

"Are girls into spontaneity then? Hook-a-duck is unpredictable." Hi tried to slick his hair back. Ended up just getting his eyebrows squished in a north-easterly direction.

"Hook-a-duck is cute at best," Ben told him semi-disgustedly. "Don't go for the spontaneity angle. The only spontaneity you have is tripping over random non-existent objects."

Shelton and I snickered at his words. Hi pouted. "Better than spontaneously possessing people."

I groaned, turning in my seat to check over my shoulder at Hi. "Are we really going down that road already?" I had updated them all when Ben picked us up on the Paugh/Greenberg/Brennan convo. Needless to say, they'd dealt with it using laughter.

"Yeah. I'm sure there's a few hundred jokes to squeeze out yet," Hi beamed.

"Did Ella happen to mention if the East Bay Playground lot would be taken up by the fair?" Ben asked, frowning a little and braking hard as someone cut right in front of us.

"Probably," Shelton replied, rubbing his chin in thought as we all sat back again. "The Playground isn't that massive, I think they normally spill down the waterfront."

"Damn. Why are there so many places we can't park around South of Broad?"

"You could park either outside Ella's or on her drive," I offered. "She only lives a couple of blocks away, and it's better than getting clamped."

"Sounds good." Ben took the next right. "You'll need to direct me, though, and none of this _I had a great idea I had to think about _stuff this time. That worked out very badly last time."

"We still got great tacos."

"Yeah, after an hour of driving around Folly Beach. Which isn't even five miles long."

"Fine, fine," I conceded, "I'll just check with Ella before going Google Maps on you."

My friend quickly agreed; her parents' cars were already in the garage, so the drive was 'free as the liberated nation of Murica.'

I snorted, replying with my thanks, before having to read out her text to the boys in the back.

Another twenty minutes later, we'd made it to the edge of the East Bay Playground, looking for the flashing pink candyfloss sign Ella ordered us to meet her by. A windy evening, the salty air brought a fresh sea tang to invigorate me as we pushed through swarms of ten-year-olds, families, and older kids. Everyone seemed to be smiling, clutching prizes or fair food or tickets to one ride or another.

There was so much to look at, so much light and movement and colour that I was spinning my head back and forth to drink it all in. Catching sight of yellow handles in the play park brought on a wave of nostalgia I couldn't resist sharing with the boys.

"Hey, do you remember when we saw those handles from the Provost Dungeon? What was it, 'Bonny's Sluice' or something?"

Shelton immediately moaned. "Don't remind me. I really gotta move to a penthouse apartment on a mountaintop one of these days."

"Possibly our most dangerous mission?" Hi mused. "Nah, wait. I forgot about the rest of the pirate-hunting adventures where there were _two _sets of killers on our tails."

"Or any of the Gamemaster stuff," I reminded Hi. "Getting stuck beneath the Citadel topped my personal pile of suck."

"Hannah was a crack shot in Chance's cellar, though," Ben remembered. "And if we'd known Bavaretto was still in the building…"

"Chance shooting on the island with his buddies was the scariest shit we'd ever seen yet, though," Hi chuckled. "We've got plenty of experience since then to make _that _look like a game of patty-cake, but I used to use that for tapping into my fl– "

"BOO!"

I screeched as someone seized me around the waist.

_Ella. _"Ohmygod never do that again, Francis!" I whipped around to face her properly.

"Sorry, Brennan." Ella wore a large grin spelling otherwise, and I hugged her with a smile to match. "You're just too easy to scare. Although apparently not as easy as Chance taking his buddies hunting on your island."

I started. "You heard us?"

"Well, only from the Chance bit. Waiting for an in. Hey everyone! Want to get hotdogs? I've been running drills in the backyard to get my game back up but _man, _soccer leaves me absolutely starving for deep-fried food. Stop me at the sixth corn dog, Tor, I mean it."

"I'll try, but don't get mad if I have to bring in the muscle to help."

"I can't promise anything." Ella linked her arm through mine and we moved deeper in to the crowds. We hit the food stands and had soon gathered four sticks of candyfloss, seven hotdogs, two burgers and three corndogs between the five of us. Once we'd made a decent inroad into the sticky sustenance, it became a competition for who could do the weirdest thing with the food. Hi won with his candyfloss eyebrows.

We dunked our hands in the hook-a-duck paddling pool then started scouting for rides. Ella wanted to do the carousel first, so we ended up saddling beautifully-carved rainbow and golden horses in between cheering five-year-olds. The boys didn't feel secure enough in their masculinity for it, so went to try their luck at whack-the-rat. Shelton, with his nervous reflexes, won a luminous blow-up kangaroo.

After that, we hit the dodgems. Everyone was keen to get stuck right in; we hit each other as much as possible. There were three consecutive games before Ella was pronounced winner and had to buy a round of 99s as reward.

Ferris wheel, coconut shy, cups-and-saucers, pirate ship, hit-the-bell, quoits… all provided ample opportunity for us to try, and mostly fail, to win the prizes promised. Flaring, we'd have had no problem. Or at least, no problem with the sideshows – there were plenty of issues presenting themselves with flares nowadays.

It was getting on for late dusk, the sky illuminated by the exuberant funfair lights, when Hi finally spotted what he'd been looking for. "Hey, hook-a-duck! Man, this game is the best."

"Even better than Skyrim?" Ella teased.

"Probably. Let me show you how totes amazepants hook-a-duck is." Hi lightly tugged at my friend's elbow, and she let herself be towed towards the brightly-flashing stall.

I fell in with Ben and Shelton. "Look at the lovebirds. Well, lovebird. Who knew hook-a-duck might actually work?"

Ben grinned at me. "Give it time, he's barely started. Ella may yet bring out a right hook. Hey, haunted house."

I followed his gaze to the shadowed stall beyond hook-a-duck, and grinned widely, bouncing up and down. "_House of Frightmares_ sounds hilariously un-scary. Let's go!"

"Really?" Shelton looked over doubtfully, shoving hands in his khaki board shorts. "Looks dark and creepy as hell."

"Creepy is awesome. We should definitely go in," I told him.

"Nah thanks, Tor. You've seen me in the dark before and I'd rather keep my creepy darkness encounters to a minimum. 'Sides, someone's gotta keep Hiram from accidentally drowning Ella."

We looked over to them. Right on cue, Hi tripped over a guy rope and almost fell into Ella. I winced, turning back to Shelton.

"Good plan. We'll see you back here in a few."

I shouldered into the throng, Ben not far behind.

The House of Frightmares was semi-busy, so on entering we were a metre away from other small groups. It was a good thing I hadn't had particularly high expectations; the first room was a dim red cave with bats and eels and stupid echoes. Ben snorted as we looked around. "Count me as super-frightened. Not."

"Terrified," I agreed. "What a scaredy-cat I am. Shall we move on?"

The next room was a little better, a sacrificial altar and sliced victims jumping out. While I did like the dark and unexpected nature of haunted houses, the altar did have me creeped out properly. I moved towards Ben a little by accident, causing our arms to brush gently. Which caused me to jump back again guiltily. _Damn it._

"You okay?" A concerned crease formed at Ben's forehead.

"Fine. Sorry."

"S'okay." The sacrificer leapt out, brandishing their long knives and almost stabbing Ben, as we walked through. He drew back hastily, having to grab my shoulder for balance. Sent an awkward grin my way, snatching his hand away, as he regained balance.

Damn, damn, damn. When did we get so awkward?

Even as I thought it, I accidentally brushed Ben's hand with my thumb. We were in the narrow entrance to the next room, but as we emerged into greenish laboratory light, we both tried to move apart a little. Wanting to be scared a little had turned into paranoid jumpiness.

"This is a little too close to home," I said out loud. All the test tubes of victims' blood and body parts were setting off scenarios in my own head I didn't want to think of. I moved sideways, away from the benches, but the exit meant you had to weave through them anyway. I paused at the side, crossing my arms.

"Tory?" Ben moved to stand beside me, but didn't face the benches. "I don't know if this is a great… oh, whatever." Then, stronger, "What are we doing?"

I turned to look at him quickly. "What are we doing? Like, in this haunted house?"

Ben gave me a look that read _you know what I mean, don't play idiot._

"Right. I, er, I don't know?"

"Well me neither, but I do know a few things." Ben took my hand, warm and surer than I felt. Slowly tugged me forwards while talking. "Like… well… I really like you. And I know you procrastinate decisions that aren't one hundred per cent rational. But maybe you could just think about whether you feel the same way, without trying to answer the universe's problems at the same time?"

I frowned, allowing myself to be led through the benches. I needed to relax and open up to Ben. We were a simmering pot that would boil over if I kept closing off, just like before, and we didn't want to go back there. Forwards was where it was at.

_So just tell him the truth. _The truth that had been eating away at the back of my brain for days, if not weeks or months.

"I like you too," I said, smiling accidentally when I caught sight of Ben's grin. "But also that _is_ difficult to separate from outside factors. Like… the pack."

"What about it?" We were only one hairpin bend away from the next room now.

"I don't want us to mess up whatever pack relationship already exists," I said haltingly, then sped up, stumbling over the words. "Like – am I suddenly going to be able to always mind-read you, or never Shelton and Hi? What would they think? What if we accidentally see inside each other's brains and – and _whatever _private scene comes out – or, or if we got together and broke up, then what? I mean, psychology says that relationships can't just go back to being friends or you were never really involved with actual _emotions _and God knows I'm past that point. I'm – I guess I'm worried about the changes for – whoa!"

After possibly the longest emotional speech of my life, I wasn't paying much attention to the haunted house and almost slipped off the metal mine-style railroad. It was only half a meter off the floor but I wasn't keen on falling between or over the ruts and smashing body parts. How did they even get permission to run these crazy events?

"Here." Ben took my hand and tucked it around his upper arm. "Better balance together."

"Thanks." I gave him a wry smile. "You smooth operator."

"I would be if I could get you to go out with me properly."

My breath caught. I couldn't keep my gaze on Ben's, and fixed on the track instead.

I wanted this, but I was also scared as hell. That seemed okay to admit now, in the dark, with strangers around us not paying attention. So I needed to tell him. Ben had been so patient, caring, protective – these and a hundred other sappy things. For me.

So I looked up again. Swallowed. "I want this. I'm also scared as – "

After that, everything happened too fast.

* * *

**A/N: Whoops, a massive cliffy. Sorry guys, but this scene is definitely too long to keep all in one chapter! Characterisation okay? Any ships feeling especially shippy after this? Let me know!**

**Also, I don't know how different travelling funfairs are in Murica so I've just stuck with what I know. That does not include corndogs (which I have never ever seen in Britain but seen on plenty of US shows so hopefully that counts).**

**Plus, largely thanks to the wonderful and encouraging reviews on the last chapter, I finally managed to break through the massive sceneblock I had! 8D So this chapter is posted super-quick as a thanks to all you lovely people out there who are sticking with me and the gang :)**

**Next time: mysterious jabs, head injury, swerving the monsters.**


	16. 2 - 5

**14.**

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shape dropping towards us. Like, right down on top of Ben and I. Reflexively, I jerked to the left, away from Ben.

I probably would have slipped straight off the track if someone hadn't been there to seize me around the middle and drag me into the darkness at the side of the room. Amidst the looped sound effects of miners and carts rattling along, I tried screaming for Ben, but there was little chance he could hear me. It was simply too loud in the haunted house, and before I could yell again, my attacker had clamped a gloved hand over my mouth.

I upped my struggles, shoving elbows and heels everywhere I could, but I still felt a clump of hair being yanked out and the prick of a needle in my arm. The total wave of panic engulfing me switched something in my brain. With barely a breath, I had flared fluidly, all abilities ramped to maximum.

Mentally, I screamed for Ben. Felt it hit the target, and him searching for me. Then I concentrated on swinging my shoulder right round to rip out the needle and loosen my attacker's grip in one. I could suddenly see a whole lot better, able to make out my opponents well. There were two in my vision, but I could sense a third nearby. A combination of careful treads and the scent of violence alerted me to their position beneath the mine tracks.

The first one came at me again, struggling to clamp back down on me. I brought my heel up, then kicked backwards into #1's stomach. I went for a punch to the head, but the second came at me and tried to tackle me. I concentrated on whirling, sending a powerful punch to their jaw and kicking them in the stomach, before I could call out for Ben again.

**Help over here! FLARE!**

The ripple in my mind let me know how he was on it. The first one was coming for me, though, the second standing up behind him. The sensory scatter let me see the third one going for Ben as they both came towards our scuffle, but I had no time to warn him: the pincer movement caught me between the attackers and engaged all my instincts.

I picked an attacker and ran towards them, then kicked out to catch the second on their kneecap so they would stop long enough for me to get in a decent, crunching punch at their head. For good measure, I added the heaviest fist-strike to the side of the head that I could muster, before turning to the first one.

Ben was getting the better of the third, who seemed to be trying to come over towards me, but the first attacker was apparently far better at anticipating and dodging than the second had been. I trusted #2 wouldn't rise to help #1, but as I tried to circle the first attacker, I realised I was almost trapped. The only advantage I still had over him was marginally more strength than what I assumed was a military-grade muscle man, and my ramped-up senses. The pack advantage didn't count if there wasn't anybody around to actually work with me.

I tried to zip around the attacker, but he blocked me and kicked out. I made a grab for his arm, but he punched me in the jaw instead.

Goddamn, that hurt. I crouched on the ground, waited for the first attacker to come at me, before uncoiling to spring like a cheetah into him. I managed to knock him over, and before #1 could use the ground to his advantage, I clumped him on the forehead. That bought enough time for me to stand up and properly kick him in the head.

Breathe. Breathe.

I tried to walk away from the briefly KO'd ninjas, but my mind was going into shock at the random attackers. Images of Coop chasing his tail and howling were superimposed across my dim vision. What did I need to do now?

There was suddenly a clanging _thump _and yell. I hared towards the dim figures of Ben and the third, but who was who? I slowed, trying to make out the figures.

There was a person on the ground, and they moved with unnatural speed to take the other's legs out from beneath them. Then proceeded to deliver a nasty elbow-strike to the head, with an added heel strike for good measure.

"Ben!" I stumbled towards my friend, and he looked up just in time to grab me as I almost fell over spare railing. He immediately drew me in fully, and I wrapped my arms around him, face buried in his shoulder.

For a moment, I clutched him with all my strength, but as my adrenaline drained away, my flare dropped and I swayed with the sudden loss of power. Ben pulled away a little to look at me anxiously.

"Are you hurt? You scared me to death. Did they get you?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, thanks to you," I managed to say. "You saved me. But what about –"

Ben cut off my words with a kiss. It was made of desperate relief, but within a moment something inside me switched to a heady flare-like rush. _Want. _His hands slid up my back roughly, and mine moved to either side of his head, almost of their own accord, head turning, eyes fluttering closed. Losing myself in the heat of Ben's lips on mine. There was no rulebook, no textbook, for this – I just gave into instinct, opening my mouth and pulling Ben closer, and – and –

My right hand was sticky. My lips stalled before my consciousness could catch up.

Sticky. The side of his head was… I pulled back slightly and prodded with my right hand. My horror must have been reflected in my expression because Ben's dazed look turned to alarm.

"What? Oh _shit _I'm sorry if you –"

"Shut up." I couldn't think. Tried to process. Pulled my right hand away, but I couldn't see it well enough in this light. "Is this – have I got blood on my hands, from your head? Have you hit your head? Take a look at my hand."

Ben's eyes still glowed golden, but when he turned his head, he hissed in pain. "Yep. I feel it now."

"How bad is it?"

The gold disappeared again for a second. Ben closed his eyes, possibly at my fear. "Pretty bad."

"We need to get out of here, to a medic, before the goons wake up. Can you see the emergency exit? There's always one somewhere, right?"

"Behind to your left – no, right. To your right. I can feel the air shift."

I moved to put my left shoulder under Ben's arm, encircling his torso. I could do little without my flare strength, but the wolf didn't want to come out to play, no matter how I tried to tap it. Maybe it was gagged by fear. But that wasn't usually how I worked. I was good at thinking around problems, mostly.

Ben didn't need much support anyway, just a lot of guidance. His balance got worse even in the short distance to the covered exit door. And then we had to manoeuvre around hundreds of metal struts holding the rooms and scares in place. I concentrated on keeping a watch out for other attackers as well as obstructions, and halfway had to pause as my flare finally kicked in with a more ramped-up set of shakes. After that, stepping around and ducking under the infrastructure with clumsy Ben became a lot easier.

We shouldered open the emergency door and stumbled into the damp grass. In the short time we had been inside the House of Frightmares, dusk had turned to near-darkness.

I tried to drag Ben more towards the front of the haunted house. It was at the edge of the fair, and we had no idea who our attackers were, what they were doing now, if there were others following us, if they had backup... the last place I wanted to be found was in trees at the edge of a park, separated from our friends and other onlookers by the very place we had been attacked originally.

"Don't go right round the front," Ben said thickly. I glanced up at him as we navigated round the truck it obviously went in.

"You okay there? Head injury getting worse?"

"I - harder to focusss. And s-speak."

Oh crap. Concussion. "It'll be fine, don't worry. Let's just get towards civilisation."

"I'm not ssstupid, I know what concussion isss, 'Toria."

Crap on a cracker. I tried to make my voice bright. "Almost there. I need to check it out, but we'll need a little bit more light, even flaring."

We rounded the corner of the House of Frightmares and I got Ben to stand still while I carefully moved his hair aside. A large portion of the right of his head was sticky with blood. I knew head wounds bled a lot, but how much blood was too much?

The wound itself was hard to see. I was trying to gently wipe more blood away, my hands already well-covered in congealing blood and refusing to be cleaned by the grass, when Ben stiffened.

"Ella, Shelton, Hi headed our way."

"Got it." I bent down to wipe my hands on the ground and powered down my flare as I did so. Nobody would see the shake of power loss then. Hi and Shelton would not be happy if they knew we'd been flaring so obviously in public, especially since there were so many complications with it these days (not to mention Madison's rumours). And if Ella saw...

I got back up and returned to carefully turning Ben's head more away from the fair, but paused at his eyes. He was blinking, but still lit up.

"Hey. Forgotten something?" I frowned, gestured between our faces around the eyes. "Ella will freak if she sees that. Actually, Hi and Shelton will freak worse."

Ben's eyes slowly tried to follow my hand. "I can't let it go. I'm trying."

"What?" I hadn't expected that.

"I can't let go - my flare - "

"Oh, shit." I glanced over at the others. They were only fifty feet away. "Think of how worried you were. Upset. Not angry, no anger, you're not frustrated, you're resigned to something bad - dammit, what do you normally do to power down?"

"Jus' sssever the lead. I don' know. Is there anything you can do to cut it?"

"No. I'm off. Remember?"

"Yeah yeah but what can we do?" Ben seemed to be really panicking now, eyes only growing wider and less focused.

"I don't know!" Thirty feet. "We need to - disguise them somehow. Make it less obvious. Do you have your shades?" Ben shook his head, swaying with the motion. "Okay. So just - say you really need to close your eyes. For ages."

"Wha' for?"

"I don't know." Twenty feet. We couldn't let Ella see his eyes, at any cost. But she was almost too close for it to be a trick of the light now. "What can we do that has your eyes closed?"

A smirk crossed Ben's features. "Don' slap me."

I was too surprised by that request to do anything but freeze as he leant in slowly, eyes shutting at the last second, to kiss me. It didn't have the heat of last time - it was clumsy, and I felt fake and horrendously like my guts had been displayed for everyone to see, because why were we doing _this_ in front of people?

And why did we so often kiss in front of the boys and Ella? Something was seriously wrong with that.

I tried to stay close-mouthed, because if I had to kiss a Concussed Ben I wanted to at least not go over-the-top PDA. After a moment of his sloppiness, some sort of concentration seemed to return. I relaxed slightly, enough for him to slip an arm around my waist and pull me closer.

"Have you let it go?" I murmured against his too-warm lips. This felt too exposed and disorientated for comfort, a dangerous place for affection to kindle.

"I'm trying," he muttered back.

Somehow, I managed to continue in his mind. Perhaps it was the closeness; perhaps the fact one of us was flaring was all that was needed any more. **I am going to be so mad later for this. I feel used. Even if it's not 100% your fault.**

_**Sorry. I'm trying. Do you think slapping would work for snupping?**_

**Not sure. You'll get slapped later anyway.**

_**Thanks. **_The sarcasm gave the word an orange tinge.

**Where are they?**

_**I think they've backed off. Can you reach Shelton or Hi like this?**_

I tried to concentrate on that, but it was difficult to think about anything other than _holy smoking buckets you're kissing Ben WTF_. There was no connection to them as far as I could feel. I kissed with a little more frustration.

Some part of my mind was screaming in a dungeon.

**No go. Shut the hell down already. I need Chapstick.**

_**Can't believe this is how our first date is going.**_

**First date?**

_**I don't think rescuing Ella or visiting Karl counts.**_

**Me neither, but that would assume we were dating.**

I felt a spike of pain sent to me by Ben, but it wasn't a deliberate transmission. I winced for him and carefully detached myself.

"Well that wasn't as fun as previously. We need to get you to a medic _now_. I'll just tell them you've got contacts in," I said forcefully, resisting the urge to wipe my mouth.

"Wait - it's - I think it's jus' draining," Ben slurred. His eyes were still clamped shut.

"Tory!" I ignored the shout but hefted my arms around Ben a little higher, more supportive. What was his flare doing? "Oi! Tory, Ben!" I'd never had a slow drain of energy like that.

"Hey!" Ella appeared to my right, closely followed by the boys. "You two look like you're having fun. Or not," she added on catching sight of my expression. "What's wrong? He taste of corn dog?"

I gave her a mixed look, slightly disgusted. "Ben hit his head and got a Concussion. Hence all the blood on our hands and his head."

"Ben?" He turned his face towards Shelton, who frowned at the closed eyes. "Uh, you okay there? Why the closed eyes?"

"We don't want anyone seeing his unfocused eyes," I bit out.

Hi clearly got it. "Welp. Shall we go visit a Claybourne medic?"

"Claybourne? He needs to go to hospital." Ella sounded appalled, tugged at my elbow.

"Maybe we should go try to find someone to help. There's often first aiders travelling with these fairs, right?" Shelton turned to Ella. "We should go find them."

"Ben will be fine with Tory," Hi added. "We can text them when we find anyone."

"And if we don't find anyone?" Ella was clearly unconvinced. "Seriously, let's just drive to the hospital."

"We parked on your drive. Ben can barely stand up." That was exaggerating his condition, but it seemed to convince my friend enough to disappear with Shelton and Hi, sending me coded looks over her shoulder that I ignored.

I blew out a breath and nudged Ben with my shoulder. "We're safe. You powered down yet?"

He opened his eyes, blinking at the fairground lights. They had returned to their normal deep brown colour. "Yeah. Thanks for saving me there."

"Welcome. Just don't pull that sort of thing on me again."

"Sorry. I am. It was just the only thing…"

"It's okay. You must be a bit better, you're not slurring any more."

"Seriously, Tor. I don't want to ruin whatever it is we do have by taking advantage of you." Ben turned his head to look at me properly.

I nodded slowly. "Thank you. I'm just glad we managed to escape Ella, or anyone else, seeing your eyes."

"We'll make sure they're not super-weird about us," Ben promised. "I know where you were going with that speech in the haunted house. And change doesn't have to be bad. I mean, my parents shout a lot less now."

I felt like I wasn't supposed to comment there, but I needed to ask. Sometimes it was better to just get it out in the open and allow someone to open up to you, not cut them off before you even gave them the opportunity. Making the leap of faith can encourage others to do so too.

"Do you like that more then?" My voice was soft, quiet, private.

Ben pulled his gaze back to mine. "I think so. As a kid, I was just frustrated all the time. I liked them not yelling, but they still had a lot of stuff to settle. Still do." He looked back to the fair. "Doesn't matter now anyway. I can get where I need to."

I sensed to not push him any more and allowed my mind to drift to other topics. If there was anyone to find on-site for Ben. Where he could go tonight. Why we had been attacked in the first place.

Hair had been pulled from me, a needle shoved in my arm. What for?

_A needle in your arm!_

I pulled my arm out from under Ben's shoulder hastily, leaving him swaying for a second before I shoved it back into place. "Oh, shit."

"What?"

"When they attacked me, they grabbed my hair and stuck a needle into my arm. That could have had anything in it," I told Ben shakily. "Poison, chemical marker, mutated trial drugs…"

"Why would they inject you?"

I shook my head just as my phone buzzed. Hi had found someone, was bringing them over.

With a relieved sigh, I relayed the news to Ben.

"Does that mean I have to remove my arm from around your shoulders soon?"

I bit my lip. "I'd really rather you didn't." But of course, it wouldn't be able to last.

* * *

**A/N: Well this very hastily-written first draft was done to the lovely tunes of Write Or Die's warning sounds, since I've been having problems getting over 20 words/minute :P Except you seriously don't want to see the terrible characterisation it started off with. I mean, I cringed the whole way. I cannot write decent fic quickly.**

**I'm sorry it's been a bit of a long time since the last update too. School starts with September, and there's still so much work I have to do D: and, lots of family get-togethers have happened recently. Hope you liked the action though!**

**Next time: hit in the road, late again, Shelton drives.**


	17. 2 - 6

**15.**

Ben was cleaned up, bandaged and sent on home within half an hour of arrival at the first aid tent. He kept sending looks our way that clearly told us to shove off while he was checked over by the volunteer medic, but nobody budged. It was going on half ten by the time we were given the go-ahead to clear out.

Since Ben was mildly concussed, he wasn't allowed to drive or sleep for the next few hours. However, he was also the one with the car. We bargained - or rather, forced Ben to accept, mostly via the extensive persuasive powers of Hiram Stolowitski - that Shelton could drive back to Morris. Hi had only had two lessons, whereas Shelton held a full license. I didn't have so much as clearance to buy L plates.

Shelton wasn't insured on Ben's car but since our friend could barely walk in a straight line, and we could hardly ask Ella to drive the ninety minute round-trip for us, Ben had to agree to let Shelton at the wheel. Not that he was happy about it. It was a case of blocking out the grumbles and thanking the powers that be that we were still alive to make this slightly illegal trip.

Shelton was probably even less happy than Ben. As we walked into Ella's drive, he seemed to be suffering a mild nervous breakdown. I probably would have been too, being forced to drive an unknown vehicle in the dark with Ben potentially killing me if anything happened. At least I'd driven _Sewee _before, that time after Jason's party.

Ella hugged me goodbye, and to Hi's chagrin, just waved at the rest of them, wishing Ben a full recovery before she disappeared inside. I didn't yet know how their romantic hook-a-duck had gone, but thought I should probably wait to ask until Shelton had manoeuvred us to a straightforward stretch of road.

"Right," I tried for a cheerful (and not tired) tone, "hit the road, Jack."

"Keys." Ben frowned, leaning further onto Hi's shoulder as he complied with Shelton's demand. He dug in his pockets before tossing them at Shelton's face. I hit his arm lightly.

"Do you want to get home in one piece?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tory." Shelton's face was covered in a sheen of sweat. He practically shone under the Francis' outside lights. "Just send us in to the graveyard already."

"You know I believe in your skills, Shelton. I mean, how many locks have you picked under pressure? Computers hacked? You worked out the Candela file backdoor thingy."

"And look where that got us," Hi muttered. I sent him a dark look. He heaved a sigh and shrugged off Ben, walking to Shelton and slugging an arm around his shoulders instead. "You can probably get us home without killing anything. I'm really tired. Let's go."

"Alright, alright, I'm going." Shelton unlocked the driver's door and checked Ben. "Please keep him in the back. _Right _back. And whoever's with him, for goodness' sake, stop him shouting, choking or snoozing."

"I think I can do that myself."

"Nu-uh buddy. Nurse Tory can take care of you. Shotgun!" Hi jogged around the hood of the car, leaving me to slide in the back of the Explorer and help Ben pull himself in without hitting anything important.

Shelton caught the engine, tested the bite point, before edging into the main road at a snail's pace. Hi sighed loudly, but started talking about whether Drogon, Viserion or Rhaegal was the coolest dragon instead of commenting. I kept an eye on Ben. When he started slumping too far forwards for safety, I motioned for him to lean up against the door and stick his feet over my way.

That just resulted in him almost head butting Shelton's seat. So I leant over, snapped his seat belt open, talking under the dragon monologue about Ben needing to lie down for safety.

"We're on a straight stretch now for ages, you know that, so nothing will happen. Just lie your damn head across my knees."

Ben opened his mouth to argue. But then Shelton suddenly slammed the brakes. Hard.

Emergency stop. We all flew forwards, my left arm shooting out to block Ben's head of its own accord. There was blood in my mouth; I had bitten my tongue. My ears rang for a second from the impact with Hi's headrest.

"Shelton!" Ben sounded pissed. "What the _hell_ -"

"There was something massive. It just ran straight out. Like a dog, or a wolf. It ran straight out at the car. I thought we were gonna hit it for sure."

"What the hell _was_ it?" Hi rubbed his neck. "I saw it too, just as you slammed on 'em. Anyone hurt?"

"I bit through my lip and bashed my head." Shelton sounded shell-shocked, not restarting the car. I leant forward and hit the hazards. "Anyone else?"

"Bit of whiplash, bruised chin. More importantly, I can't remember that last point about Viserion." Hi prodded his jaw critically.

"Head bashed, bit my tongue. Anyone got a tissue?" Hi passed me one from the glove box. I spat into it. "Thanks."

"Tory blocked my head. Bit my tongue."

"Couldn't have you getting another head injury," I said lightly. Ben chuckled, causing Hi to as well.

The relief seemed to allow Shelton to breathe again and start the engine. "If any of y'all are thinking of causing more freaking drama tonight, don't. I'll have to skin you."

"Got it, captain. Um. Who's Ben staying with tonight?"

He scowled at me. "I don't need babysitters."

"Uh, the nice doctor said you did," Hi reminded him, "and your dad won't be back from the last LIRI lot for a while. Just stick with one of us."

"I'm sorry but since Whit's still living with me and Kit, I don't think it'd be such a great idea to stay at mine," I told Ben apologetically. The implication of their expectations didn't need any more explanation.

"Stay at mine," Shelton offered. "Consider it payment for driving your freaking truck. And a 'get out of jail free' card for dodging Ruth."

"Hey, what're you saying about my mom?"

"Um, she's scary?"

Hi slumped back down in his seat, mock-aggression gone. "Yeah, that's fair."

"So," I asked, "what's the cover story?"

"Why did Ben hit his head in the first place anyway?" Hi asked, turning in his seat. "We never actually got to that bit."

"I got dragged off the haunted house mine track. Managed to flare – and it was super-easy – and call for Ben. We took the three attackers down, but they still got some of my hair, stuck a needle in me, and threw him onto a spare strut. We…" I swallowed, choosing not to include the kiss in the middle, "made it out, Ben saw you coming. I powered down from my second flare, but he couldn't, and he didn't have his freaking shades so we tried to cover up his 'golden glow' for Ella. Except it was a bad idea he came up with."

Hi snorted. "Yeah, looked like a really bad idea from our distance."

I caught Ben's eyes rolling. He didn't say anything in response, though.

"Since it didn't work, I'd have to agree. Although," I was struck by the remembrance, "I didn't need to be flaring to speak mentally to you."

"Was that the flare or…?" Shelton trailed off.

"Flare. I think. I tried to reach you two but couldn't get through."

"This trying to understand you just got weird. I don't want to picture myself in your head in that situation," Hi muttered.

"Is this on your list of stuff that's gone weird or not?" Ben interrupted. I smiled gratefully at him, trying to erase Hi's stupid comment.

"Maybe. I don't know. It all feels too tied in now. But I guess we'll see tomorrow."

Soccer then Candela. What a fun evening I had to look forward to.

* * *

Thursday morning felt like a truck to the face. Neither of the adults had appreciated my turning up last night at a quarter to eleven with no word. And this morning, I had got up with my left cheek a little puffy and sore from its meet-cute with the back of the seat, only to see Ben driving away from Shelton's. 6am is not a pleasant time to contemplate one's failures from the night before.

The school day had passed with my avoiding everyone. 'Everyone' including Ella, Jason, Shelton and Hi. The only person I wasn't committed to ignoring was Ben, but I didn't have a choice in that matter. Not that I had been able to avoid the others very well either, being as I had spent most of the last year trying to spend time with them in some way, and the spaces we frequented were designed to deter the worse enemies.

Soccer, though. That was the spot I had most obviously marked out for embarrassment. Ella liked a good locker room gossip, and almost certainly had this slot for getting me to talk.

Which I really, really couldn't face. If I had to talk about Ben and I with anyone right now, I wanted it to be Ben.

It was with a slow tread I was heading for the sports block, my mind miles away. Which probably explains why I didn't see the headmaster until I almost fell over him.

"Goodness, Miss Brennan!" He made no move to catch me, instead moving backwards to avoid such a horrid effort. "Are you quite well?"

"Yes, thank you, sir," I said stiffly, pulling my bag from the floor where it had fallen. "Are you okay?"

"Well, I was actually on my way to find you. I heard that you were on the women's soccer team, and I need a word."

"Of course, sir." I checked the corridor for a get-out, but there was none. I had to trail behind Paugh as he strode away, leading me right back to the opposite end of the school, where his poncey office sat.

I wasn't about to badger him with questions. Paugh wasn't big on curiosity. Called it insolence of the youth. So I had to wait til he was seated and I was standing perfectly before I got any answers as to what this was all about.

"Miss Brennan, I warned you several weeks ago, did I not, about your missing of school?"

Uh-oh. "Yes, sir. Because of all the court requirements?"

"Or were they?" _Crap on a cracker._ "I have heard since your account that there was really very little required of you after the Monday of your testimony. Yet not only were you absent throughout that week, you were again absent the very next Monday, even after you were specifically warned about unaccounted-for absences. Then again! Complete dismissal of lessons three and four just yesterday."

"But sir, you called -"

"Quiet," our mole-like headmaster snapped. "Furthermore, you couldn't just leave your hunger for fame at this Game Master person. You've now terrorised a well-respected student at this school. This possession nonsense is getting quite out of hand, forcing her into therapy and all sorts of unbecoming behaviours! I hope you are quite ashamed of yourself."

I was verging on appalled. "Sir, this is all a very biased argument. You heard my account to Ms Greenberg just yesterday - Madison is making this up."

"Not the absences. I have warned you about this before. Consider this a final warning."

"But sir -"

"No buts. Just leave for your little game practice. You have no leg to stand on."

So he was just trying to take down the second Viral, then. Another boat kid, scholarship student, ruining the reputation of his school, who must be ridded of ASAP. My arguments didn't matter, because now Paugh could get rid of me from Bolton Prep because I'd missed a few classes and anyone he took it up with would kick us out faster than I could flare.

I didn't have another parent to take me in, either. My one chance had been used up after my Mom's car crash. Bolton was all I had if I wanted to get any form of education.

_Suck it up, Brennan. _

I nodded stiffly at the headmaster and went to the door without another word. As I pulled it open, he called out, "there is a visitor requesting a meeting with you tomorrow break time. Come here, don't be late."

"No, sir. Thank you, sir."

The words tasted vile in my mouth. Suddenly, I wasn't so desperate to avoid Ella and the hard soccer drills any more. I needed to run off this frustration before I punched Paugh right in his scraggly jaw.

In my last glance back, I envisioned our dear headmaster being lassoed from behind and dragged out one of his huge back windows. It helped with the sickly sweet smile I delivered as the door swung shut.

Just as Paugh's image was sliced out of view by the slab of oak, he gave a little jerk back, raising a hand to his neck.

Maybe my expression was too vindictive to be believed after all.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this was a bit filler-y. But maybe a bit of relief after all the drama? Or was this dramatic again? Okay, it's always dramatic. But no kidnapping action!**

**T minus three days until (my last year of) school starts… damn it came up way too quick. **

**Next time: EEG, adrenaline, possession.**


	18. 2 - 7

**16.**

I finished wiping the electrode paste off my forehead. Left the bathroom balling up the gooey paper towels and winging them at the bin, ignoring my pasty complexion.

Clock check: going on seven. We had been comparing flaring and non-flaring reactions to stimuli using EEG, as well as Susan gathering data on the flare process in the brain using PET scans. This would give info on our electrical brain wave patterns. Shelton had been hooked up to EOG as well, to check his visual changes.

I was absolutely whacked out. Nothing had gone wrong with our flares, but then Chance and Azad hadn't been anywhere nearby. My suspicions about their effect on our flares were rapidly strengthening with evidence like this pattern backing them up.

I went over where Shelton and Ben were lounging against the benches, muttering occasionally and watching Hi finish his flaring test. This seemed to consist mostly of balls being thrown fast and videos of predators. Not the height of creativity, but I trusted that Susan at least knew what she was doing. The boys didn't even seem convinced of that.

As Hi wiped the gloop of his face, Susan ran some sort of processing programme with all our data then came over to us with four plastic packets of printed sheets. "While we finish the comparisons of your brainwaves, we've run the data from Monday comparing the makeup of your DNA and body fluids. And there's some _very _interesting findings.

"How much do you guys know from school about operons?"

I shook my head. "Not covered them."

"Okay. Well, the basic premise is that when you're functioning normally – all levels of all chemicals in your body at the norm – the regulator gene on your DNA is expressed to synthesise a certain number of repressor proteins. These usually bind to operator and promoter regions on genes elsewhere on your DNA, so RNA polymerase can't attach. Thus whatever protein the gene _can_ create can't be transcribed, because the body doesn't need it at the norm. And that protein could be really for a lot of different situations that are outside the norm for the organism, that it might need to deal with."

"So," Hi summarised, "there's a little controller that makes stop signs and fixes them to the machinery so the workers can't switch them on… so the products for extreme situations don't get made."

"Exactly." Susan nodded neatly. "So that's what is usually happening in your body, this cycle of genetic negative feedback.

"However sometimes, the body reaches too different a situation for it to function normally – for example, encountering milk, so it needs to produce lactase all of a sudden to break it down, which most adults can't actually do worldwide. The regulator gene continues to have the repressor protein synthesised –"

"So the controller dude carries on making stop signs."

" – but an inducer will bind to the repressor so that the repressor can't bind to the operator and controller regions."

"Somebody papers over the stop signs being handed out."

"The inducer will also bind to any repressor proteins already attached the operator and promoter regions, so the repressor has to leave."

"They snatch the stop signs off the machines."

"So then RNA polymerase can bind to the promoter region, and structural genes will begin producing whatever proteins are needed in the body for this new condition."

I jumped in before Hi could finish off his analogy. "Okay, so how does this apply to us?"

"I've been comparing base sequences in your DNA for a few key points, and it seems that in certain conditions where the human body would either continue as normal or present a different reaction, your bodies express different enzymes and hormones. These, in turn, create reactions in your bodies we cannot expect from humans."

I ignored the separation of us from humans. Concentrated on understanding all of this biology talk. "So what does that mean practically?"

"It means that, as far as we can see, when your body releases a certain level of stress or anger hormone, such as cortisol, adrenaline or testosterone, it undergoes a chemical firing. That's the evidence we've got so far. I'd like to investigate what this chemical explosion actually does on the ground."

I nodded numbly. Tried to sift the information. There was so much to take in, when we were finally getting answers. "So flares might be triggered by adrenaline? Our powers come out because our body realises they're needed?"

"That's the current theory to work with. Or at least, that's as far as my theory goes. My colleague suggested that there's more to do with the primal areas of your brain – the limbic system – being switched on somehow, to activate different sensors and interact differently, but we'll have to get more data from the PET scan for that." A rapid beeping sounded from the front of the room. Susan checked over her shoulder and slipped off the stool to go click rapidly at the computers with a poker face.

"Answers. We're finally getting answers." Shelton seemed a little dazed, shaking his head even as he said the words.

"But we already knew our flares were triggered by anger or stress. That's why we used to have to get angry for them," Ben pointed out.

"Yeah but now it's _fact. _An actual scientist is telling me this, and we can understand it all on a biochemical level." Hi thumped his chest and looked to the ceiling. "This is the beginning of the journey to enlightenment, my friend."

I rolled my eyes, ignored Hi. "We might get newer info from the EEG and EOG. And there'll definitely be something we didn't know from the PET scans, because we really don't know our brains."

"Or what they're doing with the data."

"Ben."

"Sorry." He twisted his mouth. "Anyone have some Cocadamol on them?"

I frowned. "You okay? And I've only got Aspirin, sorry. I'll just grab them." Since we were still in school kit – the boys having gone to get sundaes while they waited for my soccer practice to end – all my school bag stuff was here.

"Just, y'know, from the Concussion. It's fine, just a little tender still." Ben followed me round the corner to lean on the bench as I rooted through my stuff and carried on talking.

"You weren't on anything in the scans, were you? That might show up differently."

"Last had stuff at noon."

"So the effects should have worn off. A-ha!" I triumphantly pulled out the white foil sheet and handed it to Ben. "Knock yourself out. But not literally, please."

"Thanks, Tory." Ben smiled, and while it wasn't his full warm beam – we were too tired and cranky for that – it did soften the hard fatigue inside of me. Remind me that I wasn't facing the world alone.

I couldn't have stopped myself smiling back if the world was ending.

"How does Chance afford all this?" Hi's words brutally snapped off our moment. "Radiation cameras and all that don't come cheap. They don't even come expensive. They come super-duper-mega-sell-the-street expensive."

"Candela already owned it," Susan answered from across the room. "For some of the drug trialling. We just requisitioned it through Mr Claybourne."

"Nice." Shelton gave a low whistle.

I rubbed my upper arm, still regretting flaring _before_ the radiotracer had been injected. Normal, _non_-hyper-sensitive nerves are squeamish enough about needles.

Susan had explained, while I was lying on the flat bed with my head in the circular scanner, that the tracer gave off particles called positrons. They released gamma radiation, detected by the scanner. By tracking the movement of the tracer, the scanner could build up a detailed image of my brain functions.

She certainly was cold, flat, calculated. But as her actions all helped us, I was beginning to build up trust for her. We needed to. She held enough information to sell us to the government as teenage mutant ninja wolves any time she wanted.

Cheering thoughts for any said teenage mutant ninja wolf while stuck in the middle of laboratory experiments.

"What is it?" Shelton's shaking question drew me from my reverie. Following his gaze, he must have seen something on Susan's face, because she shook her head and gestured us over.

"No, no, it's nothing bad. Just unexpected."

"What?" I demanded. Possibly too commanding. _Oops._

"I was about to show you anyway. It's the EEGs. We'll have to analyse the other scans, and these more fully, over the next few days before we feed back results. But here, look at Tory's waveform."

We gathered around and she zoomed out of a line graph a little. Pointed near the beginning. "This is the waveform when she's not flaring. Perfectly normal amplitude, if a little shakier than expected, but I think within the realms of normal."

She _thought _I was within the realms of normal? I must have blanched because Hi gave me a comforting shoulder nudge, and Ben sent a steadying look.

So many months knowing we weren't normal by a long stretch, but it still caught me off guard sometimes.

"But then look here." I drew my eyes back to where Susan showed us a point a little further along. "The line goes crazy for just over fifteen seconds. An absolutely incredible amount of electricity is being given out there, similar to what we would expect from an epileptic fit in the way it spreads across the brain. So that looks like your transition."

An epileptic fit? Our transitions had always felt painful, bodies briefly seizing up, but I had never realised they were _that _bad. And if that was what we had to go through to turn on our powers, then why could we sometimes flare with no pain at all? Were the powers sometimes switched on already, without our brain deliberately going through that? But how would we be triggered to do that?

I grabbed the back of my neck. "So what's it like when we're flaring?"

"Well, it's not the normal beta rhythms – that's the waves when you're fully awake and aware, not too relaxed – we'd be expecting to see, that's for sure. I haven't had a proper exam yet, but once we've analysed it properly, we'll be able to give proper figures."

"But?" I could hear she had more.

Susan looked up for the first time, reluctant, locking eyes with me. "From what I could see a second ago, there's a strange combination of gamma and beta waves. Neurologists think gamma rhythms bind different populations of neurons together into a network, so you can carry out a certain cognitive or motor function. So your brain is really working very differently to carry out decisions."

"And what else?" I _knew _there was something else. Tried not to sound spoilt-brattish, probably failed miserably, but I'd had enough of the biology bullshitting.

"And there's these random _delta _spots," she gave in, tight-lipped. "Which should be impossible. Delta waves are the slowest seen in brains. They're associated with dreamless sleep, trances, a non-physical state of being. They allow access to the unconscious and – and what Jung called the collective unconscious. And I think that might be a vital puzzle piece."

"The collective unconscious?" I breathed.

"The collective unconscious is the part of the unconscious mind derived from ancestral memory and experience. Not just our own unconscious, which is separate. He said all humans have it, and I don't know how far down the evolutionary scale it would come in, but we can presume it extends to other mammals."

"Collective unconscious?" I repeated again. An access to everything others of our species inherently knew.

Susan was right. This could be the key to understanding how our virus worked our bodies.

"But," I tried to process, "but this – these epileptic fits. We've stopped always having them to trigger flares, and they can be more painful, or just not end when the other pack are around. How would that work? Is it to do with this other biochemical operon stuff? Is – could the wolf take over?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry," Susan said, not looking anything beyond focused, "I know you want answers, but they will come in time. This is already a _lot _of information to be working with."

"When can we come back?" Damn it if I wasn't going to squeeze out those answers in as little time as possible. We'd been secretive, worried, hiding away for a year. Been shot at hundreds of times. Solved and saved and now I had Madison's conjectures and her therapist coming for me.

Susan twisted her lips. "Try Saturday."

"Let's do the afternoon," Hi butted in quickly. "There's lots of things going on in the morning."

"Like what?" Shelton asked curiously.

"Like – like Mag League. Tor can't miss that." Hi nodded too enthusiastically. "Don't want to miss making your Roux for the lovely League ladies."

I scowled. "Thanks for the reminder. But it's actually a bit later this week."

"Pssh. You're very welcome. It's what I'm here for. Reminders and rocking high fashion."

I managed a smile. Turned to assemble my school kit so I could just think without being on show for a moment.

There was so much to take in. An incredible amount of theory and discovery. And about us.

It was hard to separate my wonder at the human body from that of our altered bodies. The changes seemed pretty damn big. Not that I was sure what I was expecting.

_For it to feel like we were satisfied, knew what was wrong. _But I was just more frustrated, wanting to understand fully.

And if that didn't come? Then what?

I slung my rucksack over a shoulder and tried to push the thought from my mind.

* * *

**A/N: I do hope I haven't lost you with all that biology! As I previously asserted, I am an A-grade student for A2-level Biology, so while I do have a good level of knowledge, I am by no means a scientist who has studied body processes in-depth. Everything in this chapter is a combination of my own knowledge (although Psychology A2 also came in very handy for all the brain stuff haha) and research for this fic. **

**Hope it struck the right level between depth and confusion. Tory's gang are barely hanging in there, so I didn't want to dumb it down too much. Also, you're all very intelligent, so why not go for the AP version? ;)**

**ALSO. I am sorry this chapter is later than I'd have liked it, but I've been having such trouble writing the last chapter of Part Two that I told myself I wasn't allowed to post this until I finished the part! I have literally only just finished it too. This is what being back in (my very last year at) school does :(**

**Next time: truly possessed, shampoo run, Hi's scent.**


	19. 2 - 8

**17.**

I was out of the Econ door before the bell could stop ringing. My enthusiasm to _not_ get lectured on punctuality by our beloved headmaster knew no bounds. More than a few dirty looks were sent my way as I shoved through the student crowds to reach Paugh's lair, but I ignored them all; Economics was not as close to him today as I might have hoped.

I was knocking on his door, smoothing down hair, before too long an interval had lapsed. Immediately, it was wrenched open. That was new.

But the headmaster was sitting at his desk – scowling, naturally – and I had to take that as an invitation to enter. It was only when I turned around after standing in front of the oak monstrosity that I realised what I had walked into.

Maybe if I'd actually thought about this meeting a bit more, I'd have worked out who I'd be facing.

_Stupid! _I'd allowed my thoughts to be consumed by Candela and the discoveries.

And now, I was left facing this predator.

"Hello, Victoria."

I wasn't so blinkered as to imagine that such a friendly demeanour ruled out the danger he posed to me and the pack. But I did know how to play the game. "Hello, Reverend. How are you?"

"I'm very pleased to see you, my dear. I was a little worried after Wednesday that you'd not want to see me." His scruffy hair was only two shades darker than his daughter's honey colour, church clothing less pristine than I'd expected, tone measured but friendly. Coming across as open and welcoming must be part of the job description. Actually, I was fairly certain it was. Not that Violet followed her father's footsteps very well.

"Are you in contact with Ms Greenberg, sir?"

"I am. And I don't want to rerun your meeting, my dear, but I want to come to an agreement with you."

"An agreement?" Like money? Ugh. "I don't have anything else to say."

He gave a small smile, as though I'd made a vaguely amusing but muddled joke. "Let's make an agreement to not lie to each other. It's one of the Ten Commandments but it's so easy to just slip into untruths for the ease of it. But life wasn't made for you to slip by in as easily as you can make it. Can you agree to that, my dear?"

"Yes, I can." _Lie. _Anything for the pack. "So why are you here – sir – that I need to be telling the truth? I suppose the _direct _truth, because if you're going to speak in riddles, I'll just leave now, thanks."

"I'm sure you'd rather stay." The words were pleasantly spoken, but accompanied by a step forwards. A threat. I focused on his feet for a moment. The reverend waited for me to meet his eyes again before he continued. "I'm here because I want the truth. _Your _truth. As does your friend Madison."

I wasn't going to ask what it was. He was too experienced an orator, and I didn't want to give into that kind of slick-git behaviour. So I just shrugged in a well-go-on-then way.

"We believe you are possessed by a demon, and you want something from Madison. So what is it you are after?"

"I am not possessed."

"Of course you're saying that. I thought we just agreed to the truth."

"I am _not _possessed."

"Then why do your eyes glow? Why do you read her mind?"

"_I am not possessed. _I am telling the truth about this!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up and ignoring Paugh's outraged look. The tide of my frustration was unleashed. "What the hell would I want from Maddy? She's just a sad spoilt girl who used to rule the school, and now can't face the facts. I won an argument against her, and she no longer _controls _me." I leaned closer to the Reverend, who was still infuriatingly smirking. "I don't have any interest in your ex-Queen Bee, and I am certainly not holding a servant of Lucifer in my body. Or soul, or whatever you're going to argue."

_Cool it. _I was allowing myself to get too riled up, and tried to breathe deeper as Stanley continued. "You'll forgive me for not believing you, but when did your periods of glowing eyes begin?"

"My eyes have never glowed."

"Stop lying."

_Do I have a tell? _

Even as the doubtful thought crossed my mind, he must have read it in my expression somehow. Reverend Stanley stepped back triumphantly, folding his arms. "A-ha! There you go. You _know _you are lying."

"I'm. Not. Lying," I growled. But that was no defence, and my opponent was too skilled. I needed to get out of here quick before he gathered more evidence. Winning was no longer an option, escape the new objective. _So come up with a closer and get out. _"I'll do whatever you want if it'll prove I'm not possessed, but I won't just stand here to listen to your unfounded accusations any longer. I am sorry that Madison is so disturbed, but please, stop harassing me, when I am a good Christian girl –" more lies, all lies – "who would just like to focus on her education. Goodbye, Reverend."

I nodded to the headmaster before sweeping past Violet's father. He tried to grab my shoulder, but I threw him off and pulled open the door.

I sped down the hall as fast as I could, and ended up running. _Cool it, Tory. _There were no footsteps behind, no shouts or sounds of pursuit. Recess was almost over, but I needed just a moment of quiet, to start thinking up a battle plan –

"Tory!" I slowed my steps just in time, as someone stepped into my path. I tried to focus as they caught me.

Blonde hair, easy smile, tall. "Uh – sorry Jason. Sorry. I've just had _another _meeting with the headmonster, I'm so out of it." I ran a hand through my hair distractedly, pulling myself upright, still breathing quick from the escape. What a damsel-in-distress move, to literally fall into Jason's arms. Nice going, let's-be-just-friends.

Jase just laughed, though, and not unkindly. "No worries. But what do you mean, another meeting? You've had more than one of these?"

"My third one this week." I sighed, leant against the wall, carefully avoiding the fire alarm. Jason raised an eyebrow. "Madison's therapist; Paugh threatening me about Madison; Madison's confidante Reverend. Her therapist and reverend have tried to convince me I'm _possessed _and I'm trying to take over Madison, and won't listen to me. Paugh is threatening me that if the whole thing doesn't calm down, then –" I drew a line across my throat.

Jason frowned. "That sounds terrible. Why aren't they listening? Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know. I don't get it. I think it just goes back to how people love to believe anything that gets them out of their boring little lives. They'll happily stir up lies for drama." That was something my mom had always said.

God, if she was here, she'd have marched up to all these a-holes and told them where to stick it. But nicely, carefully, so they'd respect her and listen.

If Mom was here, though, we'd not be _here _but back in Massachusetts, and I'd never have been infected by Coop and got glowing eyes and freaky mind powers (that may or may not be reflected in weird brain signal rhythms) that then led Madison and I to this situation.

I shut my eyes as Jason leant beside me. "I'll always speak out for you, you know that. I can't stop all these adults. But I will try to stop Madison."

I opened one eye, very slightly hopeful amidst it all. "Really?"

"Yeah. Anything for you, Tor." He slipped an arm around my shoulders just as the bell rang for third period.

I tilted my head sideways onto Jason's shoulder. It wasn't very just-be-friends of me, but I was too tired of all the crap to care. His caring comfort was what I needed.

People began streaming in from the sunny lawns, hitting lockers then class. As more and more stared, I couldn't take it. The brief moment of solace was grown too uncomfortable. I pulled my head up, awkwardly pushing my hair back into place, and pushed back off the wall. "I need to grab my books, then let's go to class."

"Okay." Jason followed me without question.

Always a refreshing friend.

* * *

I slammed the front door on my way in, sweat literally dripping off my chin. My run to get back in training would have been a better idea, had I mentally prepared myself beforehand for the extreme heat. Even 7.30 AM in a South Carolina April felt a billion degrees hotter than 2 PM in a Massachusetts August.

"Don't slam the door, honey, it rattles the windows," Whitney called from the kitchen. She must've just begun cooking Kit's breakfast, because I could hear the percolator rumbling. I rolled my eyes and decided to down water in my bathroom instead of there. All that sweat had to be replaced quick.

Trudging upstairs, I tried to avoid dropping dune dust everywhere. Gave up by the second stairway. It was going to storm and soon, but that had just made the air that much more humid, inside and out.

Ugh. I jumped into the shower as soon as I could, dial right down to cold. But I must've been thinking about life too hard for the last few showers, because when I went for the shampoo, there was almost none left.

That wasn't weird, until the conditioner and shower gel were also super-low. I scraped enough fluid to just about clean up, resolved to replenish the stocks as soon as I got out. Whitney had probably been borrowing them without checking.

Been borrowing them a _lot, _because the cupboard was bare of spares except for a bar of soap. There was absolutely no deodorant either, or hygiene products. What had Whitney been doing, anyway? Taking an inventory, trying to smell like me, saving money at the drugstore to put in another savings pot?

I needed to get into town ASAP. None of her stupid armpit-perfume stuff was any sort of match for my sweat glands at an afternoon Mag League meeting. I'd have to bike to Folly Beach.

It was as I came to that conclusion, still dripping in my towel, that thunder rumbled in the distance.

Crud. Both the adults would have a fit if I tried taking an hour's bike ride in the storm, albeit for slightly different reasons. So I needed a lift, but the others were eating breakfast, and I really _really _didn't want to have to talk about anything in my life with them right now. Nobody and nothing was a safe topic any more.

_So call your usual ride. _I winced, wondering how it would be taken.

I really needed to stop overthinking things.

Mostly to prove a point to myself, I dripped into my room and, wiping a hand dry on the towel, picked up my phone.

Five minutes later, and I was haring towards the beat-up Explorer. Wet hair just got wetter. I threw myself into the front seat before smiling. "Hey, Ben. Thanks for this."

"No problem," he said easily, turning in the road to head for town. "Gotta have you smelling like a lady for this afternoon."

"Hey! I always smell feminine."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"You've clearly not had a problem with it so far."

Ben glanced over for a second, twisting his mouth into a smirk. "Touché."

"Oh – I wasn't – shut it, you."

"No, really, if you want to talk dirty after that shower…"

"It's too early in the morning for this," I groaned.

"It's never too early _or_ late for you to overthink, Tor." I snorted at that. "But since we're on the topic…" Ben cleared his throat, sending me sideways glance. "You had any more of a think about – about what you want?"

"Um. Well. I still don't know."

"Right." I jerked my face towards him at the bitterly sarcastic tone that held the one word. "Be sure to let me know when you do."

"Ben! You know that I want to – to –"

"What? What's so big and important it's stopping you doing what you want?"

"Everything!" I snapped. I was so hurt Ben was pushing this all on me so suddenly that all I wanted to do was lash out. "I don't feel ready to just put myself out there and – and make being with you feel like another chore, on top of all this _stupid _Candela stuff, and Finishing skills, and warding off the demon headmaster every single day. And there's just so _many_ people we're lying to – is it so much to ask that I don't get pulled into another situation I don't properly want to be in?"

Ben stayed staring at the road, but shifted uncomfortably. "Right." Then, after a pause; "Sorry."

"You're possibly the only person I'm not hiding stuff from right now. You're holding Tory's Top Position already."

We didn't say anything for the rest of the drive. Which, by the time I shouldered into the tiny drugstore, was driving me crazy. So I took the best possible course of action: pretended like nothing much had happened.

The store was completely empty except for a bored-looking woman stacking shelves with earbuds in. Other than that, the dead store seemed to be sleeping, the bright turquoise walls positively glaring at me. I gave them the stink eye before moving in, Ben locking up the car in front.

I strode up to the 'standard bathroom products'-type aisle, coming to a semi-conspicuous stop by the feminine hygiene stuff. Ben, who was following a little behind, cocked an eyebrow for instructions. "Can you search out the shampoo bit?"

He nodded, hustling past as I turned to the blue boxes. His neck was faintly red, stiffly held forwards, but the awkward avoiding gave me enough time to fill the basket with what I needed. Then anti-perspirant. I heard Ben huff, knock something over, ignored him. Contemplated the shower gels for a moment before grabbing mango flavour.

"Hey, you found the – Ben?"

Another grunt. I turned around, but he had disappeared. Was the situation really that uncomfortable?

Wait.

Something was very off.

A strong tug on the mental rope alerted me to Ben's explosive flare. I dropped my basket and rounded into the next aisle, only to find him kicking somebody off of him. He tried to push up off the floor but – my brain independently pieced together – he had probably hit his head if he was pushed onto the floor. And had something wrapped around his head anyway.

Reflexively, I seized a large tin of band-aids and threw them at the attacker. It hit them in the head, and they dived away. I ran forwards, jumping over Ben's outstretched legs, but skidded around the corner. By the time I had a clear shot of the attacker – who was sporting all black gear – they were hitting the other side of the street.

If flaring hadn't been so dangerous, the attacker so quick, Ben so potentially endangered, I would have chased that attacker like a wolf onto prey. We'd been caught out once already, just a couple of days ago, and now again. How had we let it happen?

I cursed under my breath and ran back to Ben, dropping to my knees beside him. He was working the material off of his head, swearing and blinking. An attempt to disperse the flare.

"Are you okay? What happened?" I asked breathlessly.

"They just came out of nowhere with that stupid material! It took too long for my flare to kick in, so they had me on the floor first." Ben spat blood onto the material and went to stand up. I followed, ready to step in and steady at any moment. "Tell you what's weird, though. I know my head just got hit pretty hard again, but this bag – it kind of smells like Hi."

"Hi?" I took the material and sniffed, but didn't get anything from my human senses. "Nada for me. You sure?"

Ben shrugged. "Think so, but my nose isn't half what you've got on full power."

Too bad that wasn't an option right now. "Huh. Did they get anything off you?"

"They'd just pinned me down when the flare kicked in, so no. No idea what they were going for, either."

I screwed up my nose. "We'll have to ask Hiram."

"No spilling to Candela though," Ben warned. "We don't need to trust them with absolutely everything. Plus they're prime suspects for our stupid attacks right now."

I frowned but nodded agreement.

The saleslady appeared from out the back and headed for the counter, pausing when she noticed the mess we'd made. "Hey, ya'll gotta clear back up what you mucked up before you cough up."

I looked to Ben, holding back a smirk. He was facing away from her, head down, but even as he shuddered with the power-down gave a smile of amusement.

"Sorry Ma'am," I called over, "he fell over. We'll just sort it out now." We bent down to pick up the objects Ben had knocked off when first attacked. "That's two similar attacks in a week," I said in a low voice, "and I don't believe in coincidence. Something must be going on."

"Is it Chance?" Ben muttered, checking over his shoulders. "Those dogs still haven't turned up, and he's still merrily seeing Madison."

I'd temporarily forgotten that particular unpleasant detail. "But how would either of those lead to people attacking us two? It's _only _been us they want."

"Or is it you?" I placed the band-aids on the shelf and turned to face Ben fully, surprise clearly written across my face, because he hurried to explain. "You're the alpha, the one who has most wrong, the one who's probably therefore the most advanced evolution of the virus."

"Why would Candela want that? I'm already giving them everything they could want from a kidnapped me." I tried to shove aside the creeping paranoia about Chance; there was enough of a real threat from our attackers. _Twice is a pattern. _"I'm being analysed already, there's no reason to attack."

"Unless they think you're hiding something."

"Like what?" Ben just shook his head. I sighed and stood up to retrieve the dropped basket. "Maybe Hi or Shelton will have a better idea. We can ask them on the way to Candela. But first… I've got to survive Madison at our Finishing group."

Ben started chuckling. "The invincible Tory Brennan, brought down by cooking."

"Shut it!" But I couldn't help joining in too.

Out of everything that was spinning out of control, Mag League seemed the least harmful, and therefore would probably be the one to bring me down. I couldn't let assumptions and distractions rule me any more, even in the safest spots.

Paranoia mode was officially engaged.

* * *

**A/N: hey hey! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. What are you thinking about the reverend? Jason? The attack(er)(s)? Ben/Tory? Please let me know! All the reviews I get are so lovely and really convince me to continue writing :) oceansoul85, your wonderful words about Catalyst came at the time I needed them most, thank you!**

**I'm so sorry the gap has been so large between chapters. This is hopefully the worst it'll get to be, but what can you do about school? :(**

**Tell you what, though, in biology class we've just finished some work on enzymes and DNA, and we're starting on mutations. I literally questioned the teacher for twenty minutes about viral mutations and how they would spread through the body, and. I might not be attempting the heavy-duty biology Brendan's hinted will come up in "Terminal", but I do want to educate us all about science along the way, or I feel like I've failed the Reichses.**

**Also, I'm halfway through reading 'The 5****th**** Wave' at the moment (incredible book btw) and from the moment I read there was a love interest named Ben, I was sold. I feel like I know characters named Ben way too well after writing him for months.**

**Next time: sweaty backs, evading, surprising mom news**


	20. 2 - 9

**18.**

"Poise, Victoria!" Whitney hissed in my ear as I stumbled over the cobbled garden path. Her wide, frozen smile didn't move. While my father's girlfriend apparently had no problems tottering along in six-inch, virtually strapless Manolos, I was not getting along well in two-inch wedges. They might have completed the fifties look Whitney had aimed for, but I was already very close to ripping the damn things off and winging them into a box hedge. The stupid headscarf could follow right behind.

The polka-dotted sweetheart neckline wasn't half as _sweet _as Whit had aimed for, either, and I wasn't comfortable with the amount of neck she had me showing off. But apparently, "fifties ladies did not just let their hair hang tangled. It must be _swept!_"

Now, as I tottered behind Whitney's impressively upheld walk/float on the path to the Christopher Manor gardens at South of Broad, I could already feel tendrils of hair working their way free of the updo. My hair was as frazzled as my mind, and probably as desperate to escape as the rest of me.

This meeting didn't have to be so bad. I just had to stand beside Whitney – who was the committee member showcasing cooking as a Finishing skill – and smile for an hour. If anyone specifically asked me too, I would have to demonstrate my (disastrous) Roux.

At least I knew how to not burn people now. Most of the time.

Then I had three hours of free time to observe and begin learning other Finishing skills. Hopefully with Ella. She had been aiming for the first slot too for her skill (silverware arrangement). Whitney was particularly keen for me to visit the Art of Fans stand or deportment improvement; apparently my non-verbal communication was "severely lacking". Probably she thought my verbal communication was too, but we had to take this one at a time.

Deep breath. Plastic smile. I swanned under the trimmed yew hedge arch, trailing behind Whitney as she entered the labyrinth of the bright perennial-lined formal gardens. Small, tasteful gazebos were set back at intervals along the pathways. It felt like a complex wedding layout, and was decorated that way too.

I was most definitely going to get lost if I so much as let the Roux jug out of my sight. _There should be a map for this!_

"Victoria!" I got a mouthful of hair extensions as Whitney suddenly twisted. "Did you bring the butter from the car?"

"Yeah, right here." I held up the sticky packet I was clutching. Whitney pulled a face.

"Do you mean, _yes ma'am?_"

"No I didn't. Ma'am." The words were almost spat, and Whitney's expression was pure poison. But she could control my social life and my appearance; she wasn't going to control the words out of my mouth too.

There was a tense moment. I stuck my chin out and met Whitney's gaze head-on. Her eyes shifted from side to side, evidently trying to gage how much of a scene she could cause. Flicked back to me, decided.

"Get in the tent before you melt the butter."

She turned away before I could ask which disastrous set-up of canvas and string was ours… or, as the remembrance slowly trickled in, if she had told Kit of my midnight escapade yet. Not that I wanted to remind her of that particularly.

_Double damn._

* * *

Whatever had put Whitney in a bad mood had not abated by the time my hour was up. The plastic smile had melted into more of a snarl, her elegant laugh had turned into more of a hysterical shudder, and she couldn't go for more than thirty seconds without trying to correct me in some way.

It was driving me nuts. Normally, the bimbo was better at toeing the line. She was usually nicer to the other shallow ladies she met, too; today she was just not schmoozing like herself. I almost felt sorry for her.

Almost. It's not like we had to be here.

Watch check: 12.58. I reckoned I could get away with escaping now. The hour had felt like all four; I was eager to climb off the spit and let someone else spend their time turning over the fire of Whitney's semi-concealed rage.

Checking to my left, I began easing my way out from behind the neat camping stove and saucepan. Freed myself from the stupidly constricting white-clothed table. Tried my hardest to keep my balance as I rounded out into the main area of the tent, and strolled towards the exit like I was supposed to.

I was so caught up in glancing at my jailer and pretending I was allowed to leave that I didn't see the predator til she almost bowled me over.

"Tory!"

Carefully-died hair in my mouth (I spat it out). Sugary sweet voice in my ears. Inappropriate amount of cleavage on show. By the time I managed to stand up properly from where I'd been shoved into the gazebo, I knew exactly who I was facing.

"Madison. How _lovely_ to see you."

"I have been looking for you everywhere." Madison walked towards me, her smile stretching a little wider, her eyes a little harder. I backed up slightly inside the tent. "There's a couple of things I want to talk to you about."

"Oh yeah, about that," I jumped in before she could begin her argument and put my hands on my hips for strength. "Please stop spreading lies about me, and then sending your little goons after me." I stopped walking backwards and folded my arms, standing my ground now, voice hardened. "I don't know why you've got it into your head that I'm some sort of demon, but can you please get over the fact that I got the better of you in _one_ _argument_. It's just getting desperate."

The old Madison would have backed away by now, tripping over her Louboutins while she tried to formulate a clever exit line from under a veil of hair. Snickered or dropped a comment on the way out.

The new Madison smiled.

It chilled my blood. And I swear that in that moment I was filled with the sickest sense of dread that I wouldn't be able to take her down this time.

"Tory, I know you're confused. Mixed-up. All the same things they said to my boyfriend, _Chance Claybourne,_ when they locked him away for seeing all the things I saw too." I checked around me for an exit; Madison's voice dropped to be even more confident and sugary. "So I just want a weeny little chat once this meeting is over. Girl to girl."

"And what do you want to get from it? For me to tell you I possessed you and I can read minds and my eyes glow?" My scathing tone made my view perfectly clear. "You won't get any answers from me, Maddy, that your therapist and reverend didn't. I won't meet up with you. Stop – spreading – shit."

As she opened her glossed lips for whatever new tactic, I saw Whitney's women leaving the tent and seized the chance. I ducked around Madison, nipping into the gaggle of ladies as fast as I could in wedges. Stayed with them as we came to the path, then quickly pushed through ladies, trying to put as much distance between me and the multiple shouts of my name from behind. It sounded like Whitney was calling with Madison – even more of a reason to escape and not go back.

I walked as fast as I could away from the tent, ears peeled for sounds of pursuit. Crap crap crap, they were catching up. Where could I hide for three hours?

A text. I unlocked my phone eagerly for news of Ella. Found myself almost catching flies when the text from an unknown number read: **Hey Tory, it's Ashley! Come by the embroidery stand at 1:30, we need to catch up XO**

Ugh, ugh. I added her number to my contacts, adding a beware emoji beside her name, and dropped my iPhone back inside my bag without answering. There were bigger problems to deal with now, like my father's murderous girlfriend. And the stupid, _stupid _wave of pack awareness that suddenly and inconveniently washed over me. I zapped it from my mind as soon as possible and turned around instead.

I dived randomly down the next path to my left, finding myself in a small tent overflowing with flowers. I moved towards some vases near the far end and wedged myself between them so I was almost disguised from outside sight. There were a few other ladies in the tent, comparing flower colour palettes on the other side. I checked discreetly and could only see one other woman. Blonde, beautifully curled hair pinned half-back, and – miraculously for this lot – only a tasteful amount of makeup. Thirty? Thirty-something? She looked to be slightly older than Whitney, but it was hard to tell when my father's girlfriend wore so much slap all the time. Still, she did look vaguely familiar.

She must have felt me looking, because she looked up with a polite smile. "Are you okay there?"

I nodded warily, trying to duck my head a little further behind the lilies. "Um – yes, thank you, I'm just really interested in these flowers. Wow. They smell so gorgeous."

The woman gave a small laugh. "Yes, I'm very lucky that the extended Christophers are holding this meeting. We're all such botanists – well, except the Wythes, they're more interested in water features. They always were the black sheep of the family."

Through my mind trying to piece together the family history that may or may not be going on here, I managed to choke out, "The Wythes?"

"Yes. You look of about an age with Hannah. Actually, dear, you look rather like her. Same hair and everything, my!"

I gave an awkward laugh. "Well, I think Hannah's hair was – _is_ rather more auburn than my… carrot colour, but thank you."

"What's your name, dear? I'm Vivian Vertrees." Vivian glanced to the tent door where I kept checking and carefully moved to the other side of the lilies so I was hidden from outside view. I gave a grateful smile, which brought on a fun, secretive expression of her own.

"Victoria Brennan, ma'am. I did share several classes with Hannah." _And a cellar on the night she tried to kill me._

"Victoria?" Ms Vertrees examined my face for a second, eyes widening a fraction, then gave a chuckle. "My, so it is! Well, I hope I didn't agitate you with talk of my distant relatives. We aren't proud of what Hannah did, but she was a bit too stressed, the poor girl. I was a friend of Hollis', so I saw at least how something was getting to _him, _but never did I think - !"

"Oh, that's all in the past now," I said quickly, trying for an airy tone. And a change of subject. "Will you teach me more about… something I need for the Finishing skill?"

"How about the language of flowers? While I know I'd love to be able to send a bouquet and the recipient know that I mean 'the body's hidden under the third rock in the sea cave off Isle of Palms' –" I couldn't help laughing at that "– it's actually disappointingly simple. All about the colours."

"Could you teach me that then, please?" Nobody was shouting my name anymore, thank goodness. I went to sit down with Vivian, and crossed my fingers I would afterwards be able to find Ella, undetected by the bimbos on my tail.

* * *

The already dark sky was looking even more threatening by the time I left Vivian's gazebo. Within two minutes of my wandering, trying to find a suitably slightly-less-deathly-boring tent, the occasional spots of rain became drizzle, and with a clap of thunder, heavy rain.

With the women around me screaming and dashing into tents, I had no choice but to follow. This dress was on loan and strictly not to be water-damaged. No escaping the tents after all, then.

I ended up crushed up against someone's wrinkly, taffeta-clothed back. It was not as fun a position to check my phone in as I'd hoped. Ella still wasn't replying. With a sigh, I locked and slipped my phone back into the clutch bag, and tried to slide through the crowd to get away from Mrs Sweaty Back.

I didn't get very far; the wall of women was too difficult for me to penetrate when unable to use crawling or tiptoes for squeezing. I was huffing in the stickiness, trying to cross my arms and not get them tangled in nearby dresses or catch someone's eye, for a good ten minutes before my phone finally buzzed back.

I almost dropped it in my haste to read the text. Ella, at last. But her words were confusing.

**EF: So I hear u've been BSing about Jason. WTF?**

I tapped as fast back as I could.

**TB: No, WTH? What do u mean?**

**TB: and srs where r u :S**

Ella must have been glued to her phone just as much as me, because her reply came almost the second I'd sent mine.

**EF: Just heard u were getting w/ J in the hall yesterday! U dating or no?**

**TB: Was not! I just hugged him! Who did you get it from?**

Okay, that was a white lie, but a hug or a comforting shoulder-lean basically amounted to the same thing.

**EF: 1 of the League ladies, a Christopher, she said Jason Taylor was hooking up with you, she'd heard it from her daughter**

**TB: so stupid gossip then**

**EF: her friend said she heard you were proper going out from Jason's mom**

**TB: WTF :o**

**EF: y aren't u tbh**

I clenched my phone in my fist, causing the skin under my nails to whiten and my muscles to tense with the shadow of a flare. It was stupid to get so annoyed, because Ella was only teasing, but I was suddenly sick of the joke. Why wasn't I?

**TB: maybe because I'm in love with my werewolf best friend**

I quickly backspaced that message. _Stupid, stupid. _I was too annoyed to give Ella a reply right now. Werewolf? In love? This was ridiculous. We had been infected by parvovirus together and were packmates; Ben was a packmate I liked. I wasn't in love with him.

But what if it was a Freudian Slip?

"Victoria?"

I whipped my head up so fast my neck cracked. A short-haired, white-blonde mumsie figure was squeezing carefully between some older women to stand next to me. A little too close for comfort, I locked my phone screen and gave a bewildered, polite smile.

"Yes?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm Mrs Taylor. I'm ever so pleased to meet you. I hope it's okay that I picked on you a little, it's just that you're looking even more lovely in real life." Jason's mom smiled warmly at me.

I was a little more apprehensive. _Speak of the devil_. Tried to hide it with an airy, "Real life?"

"Oh, yes. Compared to the pictures Jason's shown me." My alarm must have shown in my expression, because she rushed to explain, "I mean, in the papers! He's very grateful for how you saved us all from the Gamemaster. And admiring, but you know that. I _am _glad you've said yes to him now, so we can start calling you 'Jason's girlfriend' instead of 'that girl Jason doesn't stop talking about'." She giggled, and it was a cute laugh that held no dissonant notes of malice or ill-wish.

Despite the weird words, I relaxed a little at that laugh. "It was nothing. Just trying to keep us all alive. Even if it did ruin my début dress."

Whatever she meant about me being 'Jason's girlfriend', I decided to avoid talking about. What had Jason told her – what had he done?

"I think everyone's were. Those sprinklers must have been industrial strength!" She squeezed my arm. "Anyway, thank you for not immediately running away from me. Jason did say you were shy, but we would all really love to meet you. Will you come round some time?"

I gave as nice a smile as I could muster. "I'd love to." The words sounded a little false even to me. "Although maybe not too soon, I have a lot of school stuff on at the moment."

"Oh no, I've gone and done it." Mrs Taylor shook her head. "I should have kept my mouth shut, I've gone and put you off now. Jason will kill me."

When he found out that I knew about his lies from his mom, yes he probably would. "No, no, it's fine. I'm sorry, I'll talk to him."

"Thank you," she gave a relieved smile, checking around as the women behind pushed into us briefly. "If it would make you less shy, we could meet family to family. Your stepmom was excited about the possibility when we were talking earlier."

My smile froze. "Whitney?" _What has she done? _"That might actually be, er, more nerve-racking if I had my father there too, but – I will talk to Jason."

His mom beamed. "Oh, it's been so lovely meeting you, Tory. Thank you again for not freaking out."

"No worries," I told her weakly as she began untangling herself and pushing into the crowd. Before disappearing between the floating chiffon, Mrs Taylor gave me a last wave over her shoulder.

I was left standing between sweaty bodies, wondering what the hell to do. Jason's girlfriend? If this got back to Ben, he'd go ape. Probably push me away again. But I didn't want to keep it from him either, or I'd be having secrets with absolutely everyone.

I was good at keeping my mouth shut and balancing the people in my life, but that might be too much even for me.

So I had to tell him. I just had to make sure I did it in the right way.

Then, Ella. I needed to at least tell her what had just happened.

**TB: absolutely not attracted to Jason. But his mom just came to talk to me, calling me his gf, and Whit has been saying that 2 WTF**

It wasn't even 2'o'clock but as I locked my phone, the need to escape this whole cloying event was overwhelming. Whitney – Madison – Ella – Jason – I felt desperate to avoid them all and forget them all for a time. My rage was bubbling away behind my carefully-controlled expression, but if anyone else irritated me right now, I would quite possibly boil over.

That wouldn't do.

I swiped my phone open and fired a text to the boys.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so, so much for keeping up with "Catalyst" and all the lovely reviews on my story, I love my readers so much! You all rock big-time. This was going to be the penultimate chapter of the section, but it got to 5K (I had to add in a couple extra scenes) so I split it :P I had a large block on the Mag League scene for about a month (yes, **_**this **_**is the one!) so I hope it's not overly dramatic. **

**I've found the perfect faceclaim for Tory, too: Luca Hollestelle! Seriously, she is my new headcanon for Ginny Weasley too. Though not Clary Fray, or Rachel Elizabeth Dare, or Lily Evans. She's replaced Elle Fanning on my "Night Obsessions" cover image and all.**

**Again, upper sixth (or in the US, senior) schooling has taken over my life big-time, as I'm sure you've experienced. Little writing is happening and I'm getting dangerously close to the end of my chapter backlog, since chapter 3.1 has been in the works for almost a month now…**

**(At time of posting, I've literally just finished 3.1, gah. I wouldn't allow myself to post this until I finished writing that because it's been a maaaajor block for me. Funny, this was my previously most-difficult chapter until now!)**

**Next time: Chance goes South, pack comparisons, Azad's interruptions with Taylor Swift**


	21. 2 - 10

**19.**

"Thanks for coming," I said through gritted teeth, pulling myself up into the back of the blue truck.

"No prob–" Ben's words cut out midway and he swivelled to look at me. I narrowed my eyes, clipping the seatbelt in.

"What? Have I suddenly become a problem?"

"No, no. You just look… weird. Good weird?"

"Great. Thanks." My phone buzzed in my hand, making me jump a little. Lit up: _Jason Taylor._ It brought a flash of fury at being played for a fool in my friendship with him, and in a fit of ridiculous temper, I hurled my iPhone across the car.

"Hey! Innocent bystander over here!" Hi exclaimed, rubbing the pec where it had hit him, and taking up my phone as Ben signalled left and moved off. "I'm keeping this dangerous missile until you can promise me it's not going through the windscreen."

"Tor? You okay?" Shelton, shotgun, was peering nervously at me around the headrest. I pursed my lips in response, trying to keep a control on myself. I felt like I was about to explode. A heavy set of cramps settled into my stomach and lower back for the last hour didn't help, either. If I tried to answer that question now…

"Ugh, what is that _smell?_" I wafted in front of my nose, tugging at the stupid hairdo with my left hand.

"Hiram. Of course." Shelton grinned. "Apparently it's part of the costume."

"Costume? _Ohmygod_." I hadn't looked at him properly before, but what a welcome distraction the ridiculous sight before me was. Hi was swathed in what looked like multiple maroon bedsheets, safety pins gleaming where he was keeping the folds in place. He was wearing black cycling gloves, and from a leather belt at his waist, a large pipe-cleaner-wrapped plastic sword was currently bent at right-angles to the shape of his bent leg. To top it off, a large stick was wedged between him and the door.

"What the _hell_?" I turned to stare aghast at Shelton, whose jamjar lenses waggled as he shook his head against the seat.

"Some sort of dawn _Game of Thrones _LARP gathering. From that Charleston RP he's in."

Ben coughed something that sounded suspiciously like 'weirdo'.

"I don't remember you telling me about the part where the Starks dress up as duvets."

"I'm Thoros of Myr," Hi said in a mildly offended voice, not looking up from his phone. "And it was a great gathering. I actually talked to a female who isn't Tory. _And _she was dressed up like Khaleesi. She left kinda halfway through, but I've still got her number."

"You got a girl's number?" I was torn between amusement and pride, giving a large knot in my hair an unsuccessful tug. "Well good for you, Hi."

"You're not a complete social stump after all," Ben chipped in.

"Just me, then," Shelton groaned. I actually smiled at that, my bubbling anger draining a little. Now if I could just get the stupid knot out of my hair, I'd be golden.

I reached for the tiny bag, came across a tiny comb, and began to work it through the centre of the tangle. I had just loosened it a little when Hi gave a yelp. "Tory!"

"What?" He held up his phone. Except – that wasn't his phone he'd been fiddling with, it was mine.

All the frustration came flooding right back in, and a tooth of the comb snapped off in my hair. I left it stuck there and lunged for the phone. "Give it here! Oi!"

"What? What is it?" Shelton ducked as Hi chucked my iPhone forwards. It hit the dashboard. Before he could scoop it up, I unbuckled and threw myself forward, snatching it up before any more damage could be done. As predicted, the screen showed mine and Ella's convo.

"Stop throwing things!" Ben barked, swerving slightly. "I need to concentrate on the road or so help me we will all end up in the Ashley river."

"What did you _think_ had got me so riled up?" I half-shouted at Hi.

"I don't know – Whitney? It's really none of my – "

"No, it's not! And Whitney's a part of it anyway! I haven't been allowed to eat for seven hours, and she insisted on playing Barbies with me so I look ridiculous, and I've had to show hundreds of bimbos how to cook a bloody Roux. And Madison cornered me, by the way, and she's all new and out for me, and all of us. And all I hear from everyone is about my stupid reputation which is really starting to kill me. And yes, I also had to rehash _that _conversation with Ella for the fiftieth time and also Jason's mom cornered me about it."

"So why do they think you're going out with Jason?" Hi asked interestedly.

The car properly jerked towards the middle of the road this time. I caught a glimpse of Ben's jaw set. "Because he lied. He bloody – "

My jaw clamped shut of its own volition as my anger broke free and pushed a red-hot flare outwards, from under my ribcage and along to my extremities. I struggled to keep my eyes closed and clenched hard to stop it becoming a full seizure. This stupid electrical discharge in my brain wouldn't get the better of me.

Except just by my getting out of control, it already had.

The burning accelerated, intensifying before dropping off the edge. I sucked in a large breath and opened my eyes. Hi winced on seeing the golden glow. I took a second stab at answering his question.

"Between the rumour mill, Ella, Whitney, and Jason, they have all managed to ignore me and decide I'm in a non-existent relationship with Jason. Even though I definitely don't like him in _that _way. I have told him I definitely don't want to be more than friends. Ever."

I sat back, glowering in the ensuing awkward silence. My brain was settling down to the sensory overload again, but amongst the olfactory bombardment (oil, worry, leather, sweat, attraction, overpowering cheap incense, anger, salad dressing) there was another faint memory filtering through.

I leant forward to sniff the air properly. There – between the emotions and other chemicals, I could definitely smell one filtering through that had the most faint memory attached to it. Must be a scent I had originally smelled when not flaring… but where was it coming from?

I sniffed again, closing my eyes to lean in the direction of the trace. Then again. It was from Hi, but what was it?

_Sandalwood. _And I had the faintest remembrance of it from…

This morning. In a shock, I remembered Ben's attacker by the band-aids. The one who Ben had said smelled like Hi.

And he smelled like the attacker.

My eyes popped open. Hi raised an eyebrow in question. I just shook my head. "Sorry. Thought I could smell… never mind."

"Even you can't smell good looks, Tory," Hi said jovially, slightly overly bright. I must have been really freaking them out to crack even Hi's joking.

"I can smell attraction, though," I reminded him. His eyes widened slightly, but I just chuckled, slipping on the borrowed bubblegum-pink, heart-shaped shades Whitney had put in my bag when I wasn't watching. Good thing she had, now I was accidentally flaring and somehow not snupping easily. Honestly, she forced stuff like this on me, but told me off for taking snacks?

"Can we get food before we hit Candela?" I asked, rubbing my rumbling stomach. "I'm going to start eating the seats soon."

Of all the frustrations bound up in my flare right now, hunger was the easiest to solve.

* * *

"Tory."

The word, spoken close to my ear, roused me from the nap on my arms I'd been blissfully enjoying. I pulled my head up, blinking until the suave lines of Chance Claybourne came into focus in front of me.

"Chance?" Pushed my head up onto a hand, sitting up slightly. "Where have you been?"

He was smirking, hands in the pockets of his pricey suit, and fixing me with a look of condescension. It immediately made me edgy. He looked like the perfect Claybourne heir once again, the person he hadn't been for over a year. And while I knew that it was an act, a mask, more than ever before, it set my teeth on edge. To be reminded of a time when Chance was a step ahead of the Virals, and Hollis a step ahead of his son.

I shook off the last drowsiness and concentrated on the façade of a rich playboy presented in front of me. Only the mint clean surfaces around us gave the telltale hint of truth to Chance's casual nail inspection.

"Searching a new lead South of Broad. I'll tell it to you with your _pack _later. But I wanted to talk to you alone. Your bodyguards are all too effective, and really, you're far better at telling the truth without them." Chance looked up from his nails – the nibbled edges beginning to grow out – and flashed me a grin that read, _you spill secrets when you're feeling vulnerable._

"Well fire away," I said, more forcefully than the situation really required. If Chance wanted a talk, I'd be damned if I was going to start the talking.

He checked that the boys were all fully absorbed in their tests before speaking confidently, confidentially, to me. "It's been a while since we last had a one-on-one chat. All of… three weeks, if I recall correctly." I nodded stiffly. "But the time difference belies the progress we've made since, doesn't it?"

Chance paused. I decided that was a rhetorical question and kept my mouth closed. He frowned for a second, as though disappointed I wasn't being more objectionable yet.

"But I just want to talk, alpha to alpha, about the… relationship of our respective packs. Our future. We might not have concrete evidence yet, but I should think it's obvious even to Benjamin that we are not coexisting smoothly."

I couldn't resist. "What could possibly have led you to that realisation?"

Chance narrowed his eyes a fraction. "There's too many agendas. Too much is going wrong, too fast."

"What, so you want us to all do what you say now?"

"I want," Chance enunciated, "for us to trust each other, Victoria. That's all I'm asking."

I slid off the stool, folding my arms and coming to stand closer to Chance. A challenging stance. "And why should I trust anyone, least of all you? Aside from the fairground attackers and flaring problems, which could be absolutely anyone, your girlfriend is hell-bent on exorcising me." I took another step forwards, forcing Chance to step back. Good. "Tell me, does she know that _your _eyes also glow? Only they're actually a satanic shade of firetruck red, of course. And does Maddy know that you have hypersenses sometimes too?" I paused for a beat, drilling my stare into Chance's. "I'm guessing not. Possibly because I'm the only one being chased around by her cult out of all of us."

"That is a telling sign," Chance agreed, lowering his voice further. "Of course I haven't told Madison. I'd rather keep the exorcisms to a minimum. But why should she ever suspect me? I'm the Claybourne heir, returned from Bedlam a hard-working and sensitive soul. I'm the man she's been trained to expect her entire life. Whereas you? The easy pick-on turned witty victor who she never expected to be confronted by, let alone _scared _by."

"How can I get her to let it go?" I demanded. "Can you make her stop?"

Chance was the one to take a step forward now, facial muscles taut. "You got inside her head then told her she was insane. Then another revelation, and then the Gamemaster episode under the Citadel." His voice hardened to steel. "There's only so much insanity a person can take before they look for answers, Tory. Even if that search brings true insanity."

The words were like a blow to my chest. I swallowed, looked away from Chance for the first time in this confrontation. He clearly wasn't just talking about Madison here.

_Night-time monster, thy name is Tory._

"Is," I cleared my throat, "is it too much to want to protect us all?"

"The road to hell is paved with such intentions." Chance stepped forward so we were almost chin-on-forehead. I forced myself to meet his flinty eyes.

"Have you never done stupid things to protect yourself or your family, _Claybourne?"_

He didn't shy away from my obvious accusation. "You dug up that corpse yourself, Tory."

"And how did you know that being shot at in the dark wouldn't cause me to break down? Oh, right, you didn't." I pushed on, though Chance opened his mouth to respond. "I can't trust you, Chance, until we have solid evidence that whoever has knocked Ben out and injected me _is not you. _I have tried to prove your worth to the boys a hundred times, and it's got us here, but now there's someone out there targeting us… nobody is getting my trust. If you want to start gaining it, chuck Maddy."

Chance grasped my upper arm firmly, trying to regain control. "My private life has nothing to do with our experiments. And I have no idea who or what these attackers are, but you've been shot at enough times. Surely you've got enough clue by now on how to deal? Or are you too stumped without my help again?"

"Your private life has everything to do with being Viral," I hissed, grabbing his arm right back, hot anger shooting through me. "You can't just choose to not be at risk of a flare at some points. And no, it's not particularly easy to find anything to track on super-quick attackers whose only move is to be dressed in black. Believe me, we've tried."

"Then what the hell are you threatening _me _for?" Chance hissed. The crazed light seemed to have returned to his eyes as he frantically searched my face for something.

"Excuse me?"

"Because you're not telling me what bigger idea – what incredible, pull-it-all-together plan you have going here!" I shoved Chance's shoulder with my forearm as best I could, even as my back hit the wall again when he pushed me backwards with an icy expression. We were both internally struggling with the snapping beast straining to break free. "I don't know what happy, sunny mind-palace you're looking out from, but nothing works out that way. The only _happily ever after_s are in fairy tales."

"Excuse me!"

"I don't think I need you to remind me this isn't a win-win situation, Victoria," Chance snarled.

"EXCUSE ME."

I twisted my head at whiplash speed. Chance was more leisurely, just as appraising. Source of voice: one very bemused Azad.

How much had he heard?

It didn't matter anyway. He was our own specialist scientist.

Threats and rough shakes were really the least weird thing around here.

"Sorry for, er, interrupting but this phone –" he held up one of the four Virals space-grey iPhones " – keeps ringing. It'll be disturbing the scans soon, don't want that, ha!"

"What's the ringtone?" I asked, brusque. Out of the corner of my eye, Chance casually dropped the arm holding my shoulders to the wall and inspected the jacket sleeve.

"Erm…" He eyed the phone unsurely, but the tinny ringing started up again right on cue.

Chance snorted, smoothing his lapels and beginning to wander away. It took me about 1.2 seconds to work out the ringtone was Taylor Swift's "I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In" and thus who the criminal was.

"Ugh, Hiram. I'll take it for him." Azad handed me the phone and I slicked the switch to silent. Whoever **Crystal (Dany RP) **was, they weren't getting a piece of Hi right now. "Thanks, Azad," I added.

"Great, awesome, glad to help," he said, flashing a very wide and crooked-teeth smile. "Y'alright back here?"

"Well…" I flicked a glance at Chance, who was strolling out of the lab door now. He threw a last cryptic look over his shoulder; a signature underlining our stalemate. "A little tense I guess. Seem to be at war with everyone these days." And lying to everyone these days, too. But I didn't think it would be prudent to let that slip out.

Azad frowned at me, concern wrinkling his forehead. "Is it all this pack stuff? Because I really don't want to get in your way at all. I'm just sorry we have to be so…"

"So what?" I was intrigued now.

Azad just shook his head. "Let's finish these scans so we can prove it. I'm not a fan of theorising without an evidence-based support, ha. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I don't suppose you've got the ability to tell what a needle did when it went into my arm?" I asked half-heartedly. He grimaced.

"In theory, we could see if a foreign substance had entered your body… but it's probably not foreign. And there's really not any blood level difference we'd be able to calculate if the needle extracted, unless we had the norm and it was straight after…"

"It's okay. Never mind. Thanks, though." I gave a tight smile. Azad leaned against the wall beside me, folding his arms. I rubbed the front of my neck self-consciously.

"Can I ask why you're asking?"

"I was attacked on Wednesday. With Ben. But they got a needle in me long enough to either push or pull the plunger."

"Oh no," Azad's concerned expression transformed to alarm. "Are you okay? Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"Because I don't trust Chance," I muttered, grabbing my arm across my body.

That didn't seem to surprise Azad. "Just tell us next time, yes? I'm not Mr Claybourne, but I am in his pack. I can help."

"Thanks." I gave a grateful smile. The scientist opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else, a shout came from the other end of the lab for him.

"Susan. I gotta –"

"Yeah, I'll come too. They might be tearing each other apart."

Anything was possible these days. The science lab had turned into a catalyst for tensions of all sorts, and I didn't want to leave the products to ramp up before I knew what we were working with any more.

* * *

**I MADE IT ON TIME *happy dance* although it's taken me 45 minutes of grappling with in its iOS Yosemite version for me to get this to upload. Dude, this is how much I love you. Yep, every single reader - you're incredible and I love you. (What's brought this love-fest on, you may ask? Well, with last chapter, we reached 50,000 words posted on here of "Catalyst"! If that's not a cause for celebration, I don't know what is).**

**There are some slightly out-there revelations in here… what did you think of them? Is it Tory's grumpy narration colouring things? Also, is there too much dialogue and too little description? I find it hard to strike a balance, especially since I'm imitating the Reichs' style of Tory's voice, which is already very facts-based and not as such poetic ;P**

**Also, the Hi-as-Thoros detail is canon(ish) – I tweeted Brendan asking who Hi would RP as from **_**Game of Thrones **_**and he thought Thoros of Myr! So here you go, Hi as the Red Priest. (I can totally get what Brendan means ha).**

**Next time: Kit talks abandonment, brainwaves, texts from Ashley**

**BONUS next time: "**_**Kinda**_**? I remember him getting carted off to lockup for shooting at you, kiddo." **


	22. 2 - 11

**20.**

I was feeling calmer and more relaxed by the time we were tucking back into _Sewee_. All the science talk was comforting, even though there were a couple of unstable theories floating around I was going to have to sound off of my Aunt Tempe. As we pulled out of the Cole cove, I was already mentally composing the email.

"Hey," Shelton's voice broke through the mutual reverie, "do you think Chance _really _caught the dogs' scent South of Broad? Or was he just saying he went searching for them to put us off?"

"He did," I answered immediately. "He wasn't lying. I'd have smelled all the signs if he had. Also it _is_ dangerous for Candela to still have successful test subjects on the loose, so it's not like he was out for a joyride."

"How come your flare was fine around him and Azad?"

I just shrugged. Decided to not mention how we'd had a semi-secret standoff where we'd barely controlled the wolf. "Maybe I was already taking up the brain airwaves, so to speak."

"I refuse to be a radio station," Ben put in next to me.

I winced. "Well if that bioelectricity theory is correct…"

All three of the boys groaned around me. I raised my hands in a protesting gesture, turning to face Shelton and Hi, the main offenders. "Hey, we all trade info on the brainwaves! If this bioelectricity stuff is legit, you could learn to reverse the signal."

One of the discussion focal points had been the mind-sharing and how I controlled it. Theories included: 'bioelectricity', where all thoughts were exact brainwaves we could decode and force on others; my strong schnoz being able to sift and decode the complex cocktail of hormones that were associated with thoughts so that each thought had a unique 'hormone code'; or our flare-heightened brains were using more of their 'optimum levels of functioning' than before so could multitask to tap into Jung's so-called collective unconscious at the same time as concentrating on higher cognitive function.

There were major flaws with each of these theories. Wouldn't 'bioelectricity' have been recorded by some kind of scanner by now, and why wouldn't we know about it from wolf studies already? Wouldn't 'hormone codes' differ person-to-person based on what feelings they associated with different words? And wouldn't these 'optimum levels of functioning' have showed up on the PET/EEG images?

_Maybe because all the tests are designed for humans, you won't get to the bottom of it._

I shoved the thought away. We would keep on trying, and what else could we do?

Susan and Azad were already running DNA base code sequencing comparisons between herself as a normal human, Azad as a Claybourne Viral, and one of us as Cooper Virals. To keep things simple, we didn't know whose DNA was being used. Hi thought mine, since I was the compliant one; I suspected all of them, because our powers had manifested with different emphases, whereas Chance and Azad hadn't yet noticed differences in their own super-senses. Neither could do funky mind stuff – yet – either. Which had cheered Ben right up from his Jason-centred sulk.

As we passed into the open water, _Sewee _hit a patch of mobile signal and three phones buzzed at once. Mine was one of them. Only half-pulling out of my thoughts, I checked the text absent-mindedly.

**Wow thanks for blowing me off ;P it's cool, we should def meet up asap XO**

I started to respond, but my peripheral vision was ahead of my conscious. My fingers stalled; I checked the contact, and almost dropped my phone overboard.

The conversation thread was with _Ashley Bodford._

"What is it?" Ben asked, alarmed. I sent a reassuring smile.

"Just – got an unexpected text. Nothing terrible."

Ben grunted, turned back to the front. He bore a large, blossoming bruise on his temple from our time at Candela, when Susan had forced us to flare at the same time as Chance. The confirming test had not been fun, but of all of us, Ben seemed to have the most trouble letting the super-strong flares go. I privately wondered if he just didn't want to, worried about feeling 'weak', or being so used to flaring it was easier than being normal.

Maybe he was more in denial we were being messed up.

Or maybe he was now on even higher alert since he had been attacked just this morning.

"Hey, how's your head from this morning?" I asked. Ben turned, assessing me. I carefully reached out to brush – and then gently probe – the back of his head. As I came across a swollen lump, Ben let out a hiss of pain, but didn't move his eyes from mine.

"That's the spot."

I frowned slightly. "That's three head bashes in almost as many days."

"I'll be fine."

I suddenly became very aware of my fingers in Ben's hair, resting lightly on his skin. Our proximity. How my blood suddenly seemed hotter and thicker.

I bit my lip.

_…__light catches her hair like that, like it's on fire… oh shit not the sexy lip bite I won't be able to hold…_

"Ben?" My voice came out several octaves higher than usual.

"Mm-hm?"

_…__doofus twins in the back should really shove off into the ocean about now…_

My eyes widened. "Stop – cut it off!"

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Cut what off?"

"You can't even feel me?"

"Your hand?"

"No in – in your head!" I pulled my fingers away and gestured wildly. A reversed image of me, ridiculous dress and tangled hair only getting more blown about in the early evening ocean crosswinds, was imprinted on my mind. A dual sense of awareness besides my own. I closed my eyes and pressed the heels of my hands there.

_…__in my head, reading my mind again? _

"Yes, exactly!" I popped my eyes open and turned in my seat, reaching over the back to seize Shelton's wrist. He yelped, cursing under his breath as I closed my eyes and tried to feel his pulse. I drowned out the complaints and focused on his quickening pulse.

_...madwoman, absolutely mental… need a bloody cure for this creepy mind stuff…_

"Oh my god!" I dropped Shelton's wrist, which he grumpily started rubbing. _What hellish ritual now…_

_What if it's just me she can see in her mind?_

_Bloody mad leader, can't believe we ever said yes after all these near-deaths…_

_If you can still hear me in here, come back to real senses, Victoria!_

A violent shiver, and I pulled my conscious out of the running commentaries in my head, fixing my eyes on Ben. "Thanks. That – that worked."

"What's happening?" Hi complained from the back.

"I've got multiple TV channels on in my head," I said weakly. "Except those TV channels are Shelton and Ben."

"You need a pulse to do it?" Shelton asked.

"Maybe?" I guessed. Hi immediately sat on his hands. "I'm trying to turn them off and I can't!"

"I don't want to be in your head 24/7!" Shelton scooted down the bench, several feet towards the end of _Sewee. _"My brain isn't the new CNN!"

"Try switching it off yourself," I snapped. _That was harsh._

"Concentrate on something else," Hi suggested, his placating tone out in full force. "Like, how we've got further evidence that the flaring changes are partially based on hormone changes, and we had all those tests run on us. Any ideas on _exactly _which physiological functions differ yet?" I shook my head. "Then get to! Didn't Azad tell us to work it out?"

I frowned. "But –"

"Just try it," Ben suggested.

I didn't have any better ideas for switching off my friends' commentaries in my head, so settled back and started sifting the multitude of information I had stored about flaring.

It wasn't as easy to focus as usual. I tried to connect the dots for minutes at a time, but it wasn't interesting work. My thoughts kept drifting back to how the (slowly dimming) running commentaries had appeared just through my physically connecting to my packmates. None of us had been flaring, although we _had _been tentatively switched on for laboratory purposes earlier.

It was like the wolf could no longer be fully put to bed, and was integrating more into my everyday functioning. Hell, I'd not exactly been over-the-top angry with Chance, just frustrated more than anything – but I'd still almost flared. How different would it be if I became fully flared, all the time? Would we use up far more energy, be overtaken by the primal areas of our brains? At the minute, I could keep the rational and primal side-by-side, and ultimately separated. But it was getting harder to keep a control on my physical reactions.

What would happen if we started flaring full-time?

My eyes popped open at that.

It didn't bear thinking about. I resolved to keep that particular conjecture in a locked safe at the bottom of my mental strongbox.

I moved my thoughts away quickly. Focused on another unresolved issue. _Chance. _

Our confrontation had been a long time coming. We hadn't resolved anything other than owning how there was mutual distrust. None of my packmates would be happy if they knew I'd been cornered by Chance but just let him know _more _of our secrets, and got nothing out of him in return. Nothing other than a show of stubbornness.

Damn him. I didn't want to tell them now, not when we were motoring up to Morris on a beautiful golden afternoon, and I had managed to pull back from the boys' heads without hurting anybody, and we were all relaxing in the ease of future answers. I only ever seemed to bring them bad news. We deserved this (outwardly) serene moment, even if it wouldn't last.

I sat up and smiled at Ben, who gave a half-grin back, looking away quicker than usual.

It wouldn't last. But a temporary peace was the best I could do.

* * *

I shut the door carefully behind me, taking a deep breath and lifting my chin. Cooper barked and ran towards and around me, even jumpier than usual thanks to my slack dog-walking routine this week. The shoes were dangling from my hand by their straps. Even as the muggy house air settled, I could feel the guilt settling on my conscience.

I had been a bad daughter, not to mention sort-of step-daughter. And I was about to be a worse one now by just heading straight for my room. Tiptoeing up the first and second flights of stairs, I could hear what sounded like another Ariana Grande album drifting from the ex-man cave. Whit'n'Kit must be in there, then.

I couldn't avoid them forever. Or at least, not if I wanted to ever leave my bedroom. So the best I could do was be more comfortable when we came face-to-face.

Shower, t-shirt and shorts it was.

The confrontation came more quickly than I was expecting. I'd only just finished shampooing my hair when a colossal banging frightened me into sloshing bubbles into my eye. "Hello?" I called.

"T-Tory," Kit's 'forceful father' voice came muffled through the door. "We need to talk later… Straight after this. You got that?"

"Got it." My voice came out an octave too high. I stayed frozen under the hot water for a full minute or so, listening until I was sure Kit had gone. Debated drinking all the conditioner, and shower gel too, if it would get me out of today's _third _unwanted confrontation. Madison; Chance; Kit: they were all mad at me, wanting a more honest story, and for very different reasons.

I really needed to revisit that 'honesty is the best policy' idea.

Emerging five minutes later, I piled the Mag League clothes on my bed and brushed out my towelled hair. Then before anything else could distract me, I pulled open the bedroom door – and almost fell onto Kit.

He scrambled sideways so I could unceremoniously plonk down beside him. My dad had been fiddling with the iPad while barricading my door, and now distractedly clicked the lock button while I crossed my legs and pushed the limp wet curtains of hair behind my ears.

Kit didn't beat about the bush but pushed his tablet away with a sigh. "Tory. I know you've got a lot going on at the moment, what with all your end-of-term projects and soccer. But Ella's safe now. That muttonhide Corcoran caught Hawfield, though it'll always be a mystery to us exactly how he managed it." Kit shook his head against the wall. "And I know Whit isn't exactly your cup of tea, but you've had a year and a half to get used to each other. Your behaviour this afternoon was… not acceptable."

I said nothing, nodding down at my lap instead. Apparently encouraged, Kit barrelled on.

"You can't keep abandoning her, Tor. I know you're not a fan of these lady functions, but the deal has always been that you do them to keep the dog, and to keep her happy. I'm not asking you to be a perfect lady, just do some of the girl stuff you can do."

"I don't have a quota of feminine activity time I need to fulfil," I complained. "Just because I _can _do those things doesn't mean I _should_."

"I ain't budging on this one, kiddo. But we both think you're running a little wild at the minute." Kit turned his head more towards me. "School doesn't explain away all of this, though I know there's gotta be something up. So can you please – just talk to me. To us."

"Will do," I mumbled to the carpet.

Kit surprised me by shooting a hand out and turning my chin so I had to look at him. "I mean it, Tory. Just tell me what's going on."

I blinked but said nothing. _Honesty is the best policy. _So exactly which threads of my tangled knot should I choose to show Kit?

He must have seen the indecision in my face, because he let go and raised his eyebrows. "Whit did say something about you going out late to meet this Jason. That part of this?"

"Kind of." I made a face. "Everyone at Mag League today was blowing it out of proportion. Which sucked." I scuffed the carpet with my right foot. There, that was semi-honesty.

_No such thing. It's still lying if you're concealing the truth._

"And," I swallowed, "there's a lot of drama with the boys at the minute. Very Greek tragedy. Unrequited feelings. Love triangles. Muggings."

"Is Hi at the centre of that by any chance?" I nodded, since when you looked at it a certain way, he was.

"And since we're all trying to work on this project with Ella too…" I forced myself to round it off with some outlet of emotion to convince Kit. "It's been stressful. Trying to co-ordinate everyone."

"Right." It sounded like Kit was swallowing it for now.

Perhaps my relief showed on my face. Perhaps Kit had always planned to go down this track. But whatever the reason, he withdrew the hand and said, "what about Mr Claybourne?"

My head shot up in surprise. "What about – how do you know about him?"

"Is he the project? Linus mentioned something about it the other day." Kit was peering at me closely. "No lies now, Tor."

I sighed, looked down at the ground. Cognitive cogs were spinning a mile a minute. "Yeah, kinda."

"_Kinda_? I remember him getting carted off to lockup for shooting at you, kiddo."

"You and everyone else."

"_Tory_." That was the no-escape-now tone. Rarely used, rarely unsuccessful.

"We're trying to help him, okay? He sometimes thinks he's still going mad. The boys and I get to use some of his equipment for research."

Kit let out a long breath. "Right. I thought you were just getting better at sneaking into LIRI. What, by the way, were you doing in Lab 2F for six hours after your birthday?"

"Synthesising forensic aids. And I wish."

Kit shook his head. "And what research do you need Candela Pharmaceuticals' fancy stuff for anyway? What I wouldn't do to get hold of their Multicellular Tumour Spheroid Model Imagers..."

I pulled a face. _Honesty_. But not the full truth, either. The boys would kill me if I dropped the ball now. "Karsten. He was doing some research into Parvo."

"Using Cooper. I remember." As if on cue, my dog barked from below.

"Yeah. Well... we're doing some research on the virus, and the form Karsten kept it in." I feigned more enthusiasm than I currently dully felt. "It's such a tiny structure, absolutely minuscule, so no wonder it finds it so easy to invade cells. But Karsten's might be even more volatile. Plus –"

"Did you get his old files?" I bit my lip. "How?"

"We-ell..." Could I really tell Kit we'd hired a hacker to break this military-grade security for us? The boys would definitely eat me for breakfast. Especially after all the lying I'd made _them_ do over the months.

Kit saved me from the wavering indecision. "You know what, I don't want to know. Just... stay safe."

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. I watched him for a moment before venturing, "what else is up?"

Hopefully something unrelated. This conversation had gone better than expected so far, but seeing as it was yet inconclusive, I didn't have high hopes.

"Whitney thinks," he spoke carefully, "that it would be better if we had synchronised trackers on our phones."

My eyes widened, mouth tasting very suddenly like rust. Forced myself to keep calm and reasonable. If I shouted, it would drive the point home.

"I'm not very keen on that idea. It seems a little…" I floundered for a nicer metaphor than the one in my head; failed, "… prison-like."

"With all the laws you've broken, Tory, we're lucky you're not there."

"Aw c'mon Kit, really?"

His voice was set. "Any suggestions?"

I huffed. "The boys and I use iFollow."

Of course he wanted to see the app. Liked the look of the co-ordinating and group functions – until he saw it could be signed out of.

My jaw was clenched in repressed irritation. "Well what kind of app are you looking for?"

"One you can't just switch off. I'm not that stupid, kiddo."

"You find it then," I grumbled. Kit promptly switched to the app store on his iPad, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Just be glad we've not got tracking on your internet searches. That's what Hiram's getting."

"Lucky me," I muttered under my breath. Kit pooched his lips out but made no comment if he'd heard. Clearly the parents had been talking, and recently, about their feral children. I made a mental note to not google stuff on Hi's phone.

"How about this one?" Kit showed a track app to me. I just pointed to the sign in/out function.

It was his turn to huff in irritation. "Why doesn't Apple tech just come with one you can't switch off?"

"They do." Kit's head shot up. I rolled my eyes. "Seriously. 'Find iPhone'. If you don't sign me out on your iPad, it doesn't matter what my iPhone does; you'll be able to find me."

"Sounds great. I am just doing this because I don't want there to be a day when you get trapped somewhere, or someone grabs you, and – and nobody can get to you in time." Kit grabbed my arm. "I don't want to go losing you, Tory."

I tried to smile. Meeting my father's eyes, I had the desperate urge to tell him everything. And to hit him. How could I go to Cole, to Ella's, anywhere, without him watching my every move?

Before I knew what I was doing, I reached out the fingers of my consciousness and squeezed them round Kit's mind. Just for a second, as I wished he already thought I was signed in and tracked.

Then – _snap_! The connecting rubber band broke.

Kit blinked, went to stand up, half-smiling. "Thanks, Tory. It's just for emergencies. But we both really appreciate it. Now –"

"Kit, wait." I hurriedly stood up next to him. _Honesty_. My heart was beating very hard all of a sudden, and I needed to stop him. "I'm not signed in."

"You just did it."

"No, no, look." I gently took the iPad and sorted through the apps, mind icily numb.

Kit frowned down at my fingers as I signed into iCloud. "Could've sworn you just did that. Your old man is going senile already... better reserve me a spot in Shady Gardens Home soon."

I tried to smile, orange memories of visiting Sylvia Briggerman bubbling up through the strong dark blanket of dread. "You might be in by next week."

"Nice one. Now," Kit tucked the iPad under one arm and headed for the ex-man cave, "would you mind apologising to Whit before she gets any more wound up?"

I sighed. "On it."

_Honesty_. What had I done?

* * *

**A/N: Here endeth the second part! Hope you enjoyed it. A lot of mixed messages and crossed wires are kind of confusing to write, but I love all the knotting and unknotting. (Can you tell I've just had an English Lit seminar? :P ) Plus, I had way too much fun putting in that little bit about Shady Gardens; I wanted to highlight how Tory's moral responsibility has really changed across her character arc. She was so upset to be pretending to be Sylvia's great-niece then... I think Chance has really played a large part in hardening her, for better or worse.**

**AAARGH THIS IS SO ANNOYING. This website won't let me upload chapters any more, ever since the Word update! Whatever conversions, copy-pastes I do... Nope DX and it's so frustrating because I ad this ready to go three days ago and have been struggling sooo much that eventually I've had to manually re-format everything on an unformatted paste. This chapter might've taken me a hella long time to write originally, and I'm sorry it's not up in great time. I've had to force myself to finish the chapter I was working on before I could post this rather important one! Poor Kit never really gets much of a look-in, I sort of forget about him, but then the Tory of the books does too.**

**On a side note, I've been obsessing over Bellarke and Romitri fanfiction whenever I can't sleep (which is often)… and I have quite a few one-shot ideas for both Vampire Academy/Bloodlines and The 100… anyone here in those fandoms? I am actually currently writing a Bellarke one-shot, but since we aren't getting series two in the UK yet, it's a little vague on the details ha.**

**Mega shoutout to the wonderful people who review me every chapter... you know who you are, and you have no idea how encouraging it is. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't bother posting every week! Thank you for all your kind words 3**

**Tune in next time for Part 3! O.O**


	23. prologue III

**Prologue III**

The attacker frowned down at tomorrow's to-do list. There were several lines of activities they just weren't comfortable with, namely those relating to their sister's ridiculous tracking business. So she wanted to keep tags on that brat for "personal reasons" – why did that involve _them_? There was enough to do already without this 'checking up'. Too much.

The power was beginning to slip. The attacker could feel it. They used to be half of the brains, at least in theory. And now their own sister, going around like she was the boss, ordering hit jobs and check-ups and even proof-reading. Well, she had sold it as proof-reading. It had actually been 'I want you to tell me I'm right about what they think is happening', three hours of sifting text messages and tweets and snapchats.

Well, no longer. Today had been long, with already far too much networking and generally being the charming muscle as _she _tottered in the background, stabbing those that got in her way with crochet hooks.

That was sort of an exaggeration, the attacker thought wryly. The hacker-tracker-sister would only ever do things that wouldn't leave marks. Unless, of course, you had 100% of the story – then it slotted together perfectly.

The attacker had considered breaking their sister's confidence down once or twice… an hour. But ultimately, they had 50% of the story.

And even then, that was only in theory. She always had been good at making you feel kind of important, until the focus was on someone truly far more important than yourself. Maybe even she didn't know the 100%. The snippets the attacker knew were certainly confusion enough, without whatever ten other plates were still spinning.

They sighed, creased the paper, tucked it neatly into the breast pocket.

The attacker would do what they were told, and they knew it. But this time, it wasn't because their sister told them to. It was because another dim, vague idea was shoring itself up into a proper plan in their mind.

A proper plan, giving proper power.

They refused to stay at the bottom of the ladder forever.

* * *

**A/N: hope it wasn't too confusing! Actually, that was a white lie – I hope that was confusing in a good, irritating way. Not a "this is stupid" way.**

**Thanks for reading, though – I am so incredibly excited about what's coming, thank you for staying with me so far, and I hope you continue on :D I... have been reading way too many Bellarke fanfictions late at night this last week, and while that was genuinely the busiest non-exam week of my life, I managed to bash out a couple of hundred words for this, and a couple of hundred for a Bellarke plunk (or two!) Any other _The 100 _fans here?**

**Next time: tingly stomachs, the ****_Charleston Times, _terribly cute overloads 3****  
**


	24. 3 - 1

**A/N: starting with the author's note this time because I want to apologise for my month-long hiatus. It was unexpected, and I've managed to write all of 500 words during this period, so I'm sorry. Illness, uni interviews and schoolwork have kept me down; I have been absolutely dying to return to "Catalyst"! Hopefully my old posting schedule should now resume aka. every 9 days or so.**

**Thank you so, so much for all the support you've given me ****during this time, too. In return, have the start of part three!**

* * *

**Part Three: Attacked**

**21.**

Monday morning. Just your average 6.40am pre-school messages. Just your average tingly warmth in the stomach coming from the convo. And this conversation really _was_ average, nothing special.

**BB: where would you go if you did get chucked out of Bolton?**

**TB: if too hard to get to Wando, which it probably is, maybe Charlotte 2 stay with Tempe. Idk trying to just not get booted**

**BB: too far for spontaneous evening visits then**

**TB: I'd miss this all way too much. Managed to find pirate treasure to stop us being split up last time &amp; I'd do it again**

**BB: what would u miss most?**

**TB: 100% the sea**

**TB: after u guys ofc**

**BB: any1 in particular?**

I wasn't giving into that compliment fish. My grin got wider as I typed out the response.

**TB: maybe Hi. Nobody else comes close**

**BB: careful what u say, this can be screenshotted and used as blackmail**

**BB: shit!**

**TB: what?**

**TB: I'm too used to blackmail to care about that btw**

**BB: check the paper**

**TB: not delivered here!**

**BB: 1 sec**

A photo of the front page of the _Charleston Times _came through. I tapped for full-screen.

My jaw hit the floor at the screaming headline.

**_BOLTON BEAUTY POSSESSED BY MORRIS THREE! The anti-terrorist saviour turns on classmate._**

_Recent debutante Madison Dunkle, 16, believes she has been possessed by demonic classmate Victoria Brennan, 15. The Morris Island heroine has "eyes that glow" and "can control people's minds". Madison's reverend describes these attacks as "textbook devil-work"..._

It only got worse the further I read, but I was very aware that this wasn't even the full article. There were quotes from both Madison and Reverend Stanley, citing her therapy and describing the 'incidents' in full. Neither Ms Greenberg or the DinoPaugh had given quotes, but I had the nasty feeling that it was only a matter of time.

This had spun too far out of my control, and I had no clue how to handle this.

**TB: omfg what am I going to do?! I can see the govt agencies coming for me within the day**

**BB: you need to respond, tell her where to stick it**

**TB: I have been! How do I that cleverly?!**

**BB: ask ur Dad and Tempe**

**TB: ok. Gd plan**

**BB: I'll just forward that pic to H n S**

**TB: I'll just panic**

**BB: bad idea, if he's already gone call them both!**

**TB: got it **

I gave up trying to stomach my oatmeal and grabbed a bagel for the school trip instead. Then slipped off the stool and rubbed Cooper's happy head for a few seconds to work up the courage.

"Dad?" The call echoed up the stairs. No reply. "Dad?!"

That was louder, tinged with more anxiety. Coupled with my not using his name, Kit came down the stairs at a pretty fast clip. "Tory? What's happened?"

I wordlessly handed him my phone. His eyebrows drew closer and closer together; when he looked up again, I had reverted to my position of being wrapped around the wolfdog.

"Tory, what is this about?" he asked finally.

"It's all half-true," I said, words muffled by fur, not looking up. "But it's a long story."

Kit handed my phone back. Ran a hand through his still-damp hair. Seemed torn, but resolved the decision when Whitney's phone – abandoned on the kitchen island – chimed its text tone.

"We're going to talk about this later, alright? For now..." he grimaced. "I'm sorry to leave you, kiddo, but Iglehart's on the verge of calling a court case on us."

"It's fine." My voice cracked; I cleared my throat and tried again. "It can wait."

"Hey," Kit patted my shoulder, "I know you can handle 'em. You're too good at what you do."

"Thanks, Kit."

Dull words. Coop licked my face as my father hurried away, but got no giggles from me today. Only a semi-smile.

My phone beeped.

_Crap. _Late. I ruffled Cooper's doggy head and seized my bag en route out the door. Hopefully there was already gum in my bag, or I had a doubly unpleasant ride to school this morning.

* * *

Recess. Putting extra effort into debating the pros and cons of cryogenic freezing with Hi and Shelton. Not fooling anyone, if the stares, whispers, and occasional jeers were anything to go by. I felt like I'd been sucked back ten months in time.

Jason wasn't in school today. Lacrosse champs called. I wasn't sure if this was good or bad news for us. On the one hand, no avoiding; on the other, no social buffer or confrontation today. Because, really, I couldn't just let everyone go around thinking we were dating when I clearly knew we were not. When had I ever agreed with Jason that I was his girlfriend?

Hi and Shelton seemed at least vaguely aware of my current social difficulties, making sure to not abandon me as we pushed through the more crammed corridors leading to the cafeteria. Hi even elbow-gutted one particularly uncoordinated freshman who tried to shove in front as we joined the back of the bacon butty queue.

"Walt Disney had to be an absolute freak already," Shelton was arguing. "Only a complete whackjob could come up with all that Fantasia stuff."

"Yeah but – The Lion King!" Hi cried wildly. "It's too perfect a creation to be the mere progeny of a _whackjob_."

"The whackjob's company," I corrected him. "And really, until we know whether he was a head-only or full-body freezer, we can't tell how truly mental he is."

Hi gave a smart nod. "I accept this delay. But how long..."

A sharp pain burst through my mind, lightning-tipping first one temple then through to the other. Pressing my fingers to the pressure points, I staggered sideways into Shelton, who I dimly felt seize my shoulder, Hi my forearm a moment later.

_Don't panic_.

The pressure increased madly over just a couple of seconds – an open faucet gushing into an empty test tube – and then, a terrible bursting like the caterpillar split open as young wasps hatch inside it and fly out –

Words, words like wasps, buzzing through my skull. A hundred voices, several hundred, some louder (closer?) than others – and my muscles were shaking. For once, not with the seizure, but because I was _just_ managing to keep a lid on the strong electrical discharge in me. Grounded by the boys' touch, I focused all energy inwards, to dissolving the electrical explosion threatening to take me over.

There was no voice this time, just a strong impulse I tried to force to fizzle between the sparking lines. Breaking my force into speech would lose its blanket-like push; for a dizzying push I was at war with an outer force in my own mind, and we even ghosted formlessly for inches outside my head.

Then my mind pinged back like an elastic band, snapping me back into full control of my body. I gasped; surfacing sent me backwards. Fortunately there was something to catch my fall.

Namely, the wall.

My eyes flew open and I groaned against Shelton's hand. When I drew my eyebrows together he retracted the hand carefully, and the forearm across my shoulders. Checked around cautiously whilst wiping hands on pants. I blinked a few times before following his eyeline. Nobody seemed to have noticed my mini drama, although it seemed crazy that only I could hear the whinging ring inside my head.

The faces… they were all actually turned in the opposite direction to us. More in the direction of a pile of people a few metres from us.

"I swear he had a bomb!"

I frowned. That voice coming from the centre of the mob was familiar, and though the tangle appeared to be pulling apart and calming down, the tall ginger boy with his back to us seemed to be going for the other person's throat.

"Liar! It's 'cause I'm ginge, isn't it? Hey, stand up and fight like a man, Stolowitski!"

If I'd had a desk in front of me, I'd have dropped my head onto it.

"No!" Hi's distinct voice proclaimed, only slightly muffled. "This is in protest of the anti-anti-bomb attitude in this school!"

"Why?" I muttered to myself.

Shelton, however, heard and fiddled with his Windsor knot madly. "Because he was trying to distract from you."

"Oh. _Oh._" In that case…

I marched up to the group and pulled assertively on the back of Not Got A Bomb's shirt. The jacket lay discarded, apparently in anticipation of a fist-fight. "He didn't mean it. And he clearly doesn't have a problem with red hair, so get over yourself. Now scram."

Not Got A Bomb took a look at me and my stance, and cleverly decided to drop it. Sensing the tension diffuse, onlookers turned back to each other. I glanced around, and once the cronies around Hi stopped holding him down, I pushed through and hauled him up. I almost fell over myself in the process – the almost-seizure had left me weak and wobbly – but just about kept upright and didn't send us the way of dominoes.

"Thanks for that," I muttered to Hi as he brushed himself off, trooping back to Shelton. "Seriously. Thank you."

"S'alright. What happened? And you," he pointed at Shelton as we finally received our great pork offerings from the dinner ladies, "thanks for helping me, you dirty traitor."

"I was keeping Tory upright! _And _I kept our place in the queue. There would've been no stripy'n'bread for us otherwise."

Hi reconsidered. "Argument accepted. Now, Tor. Full seizure?"

"No."

"No?"

I paused to pay and bite in before answering. "There were loads of voices in my head, swarming. And there was a force trying to come through. I managed to force them out."

"Them? Like the voices, or a – a person?" Shelton started worrying at his bread roll, but I reckoned his earlobe could probably do with the rest.

I shrugged. "Both? It was only slightly less…"

My sight snagged on the doors across the hall. Or rather, the figure standing in the doorway across the hall. Salon-tanned, designer-dyed, triumphantly smiling Madeline Dunkle; the moment our eyes met, her grin only widened.

I knew with shocking certainty that she had seen it all. And not just Hi's diversion, but my 'fainting problem'. And somehow, I didn't think that medical story would quite patch that gap for her

"Tory? Less what?"

I blinked, focused on his and Shelton's nervous expressions. Swallowed. "Scary. Maybe less scary. Except… nah."

That didn't even make full sense, but I couldn't be bothered to go back and rearrange my thoughts right now. My head was too scattered, fatigued from the brief battle. And it might just have been paranoia riding on the back of that, but I could have sworn I kept feeling Madison's stare burning into the side of my head.

I refused to turn to look at her, to give in. But it was so hard. Especially when I was so damn _sick _of all this creeping around, and lying, and trying to balance all the potentially threatening aspects of my life.

Frustration burned through me, and I took in a steadying breath. It only served to intensify my anger, and I involuntarily squeezed the butty to pulp.

"Tory – !" Hi exclaimed. Shelton's hand shot out and gripped my arm at the same moment. My eyelids slammed shut as a flare tried to shudder out.

_Dammit. _I wasn't going to be shut out by my own body again!

That frustration only made it burn harder. I concentrated on isolating the response, shoring up the shakes, dragging it back in. Long moments stretched as I battled with myself. And then… over.

I opened my eyes and met Shelton and Hi's alarm with fierce resolve. "This is _it._" Fists clenched. "I am so _sick _of having our lives pulled out of control. And the whole trying-to-take-over-Tory's-body thing is past boring." I banged a fist on the table, uncaring of how glances were drawn our way from it. "I can't lie down and hope it'll just get better any longer."

"Tory," Hi said carefully, tugging his tie, "I'll do a lot of stuff to work out what's going on, but please don't suggest Ouija boards."

Shelton just beseechingly gazed at me. The fear I now saw we were carrying between us was sickening, and I melded it into anger inside me. How many people had made me feel powerless? Wasn't that the ultimate fear?

To combat powerlessness… my mom had once said something about it, about bullies who were trying to get the better of this younger girl. I wished I could remember exactly what she'd said. But I knew the answer anyway, and that would have to do. That was what counted, anyway.

_To combat powerlessness, take action. You always have more power than you think. Wield it._

"No Ouija boards," I promised icily. "But a séance. Tonight, all five of us."

"_Chance _is coming?" Shelton was aghast. I frowned.

"Of course not. I was counting our friend who always seems to have the answers."

"Not Claybourne then?" Hi was only-joking. I rolled my eyes.

"I was thinking my wolfdog, but whatever."

* * *

**(This is the A/N from when I actually wrote the chapter!)**

**A/N: I'M SORRY I'M TRASH, this was the chapter I've had writer's block on for genuinely five weeks and as you can see, I eventually powered through, but _man _it was painful. Just… difficult to make transitions and also I didn't like the plan I have written for these few chapters sooo it's been hard. Also, since between school and illness I have really had no time to work through the block the way I'd have liked to D:**

**Next time: bugging, mugging and group-hugging Cooper**


	25. 3 - 2

**22.**

Monday afternoon, five hours after my bacon butty epiphany, waiting for _Sewee _down at the dock. Ideally, we would have been planning our felony right about now. Although 'felony' was such a harsh word. 'Break-in' sounded so much less offensive.

Shelton did not agree. It didn't help that he had been mugged by some punk kid on a Nando's run with Hi the day before. Hi's penchant for Oreo-and-PB milkshakes required more time than the lunch hour allowed, so Shelton had cut to the diner while Hi waited for their take-out wings to fry, Hi's argument being that he would drink both shakes before even returning to Nando's if he was forced to go.

Either way, Shelton had been freaked out pretty bad by the time he eventually reentered the chicken palace. He'd been on the way back from the diner when he spotted some thirteen-year-olds trading phones covertly. One was an iPhone in a (supposedly) recognisable limited edition Marvel case.

Two shake-grenades later, and Shelton had regained the phone he hadn't known had been taken; all was right again. Sort of. He was understandably shaken up and now freaked out that our external attackers had started targeting him. Also, he said that the sour-milk smell and slightly sticky screen would be haunting him forever more (or at least until he got an upgrade). Hi was bummed about the milkshakes and that he hadn't been there.

I was with him on that last count, but external attackers notwithstanding, there were more personally pressing issues I had to deal with. Like, Ella.

I'd sought her out after class and took her arm. She didn't even have to ask, her face sobering up when she caught sight of my serious expression. A ladies' room conference ensued – not my location of choice, due to stall eavesdroppers, but I couldn't come up with somewhere else nearby and unsuspicious.

"What's up?" She'd been concerned, shaking her gorgeous hair out of her eyes. Tendrils had escaped, but they looked like specially-teased locks, not my uncontrollably-wild look.

I'd pushed aside hair thoughts and tried to focus. "Why'd you abandon me on Sunday? I really needed you."

Ella's eyebrows rose at my accusatory tone. I tried to school my features into the true pathetic feelings coming through, and not mask it as anger. "My mom pulled rank and forced me to stay as her flower-arranging doll. Sorry, I didn't mean to bail on you."

"It's fine." I sighed, pushed a hand through my hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a total witch. It's just… Whitney and Jason's mom are spreading crap about me and Jase. She cornered me and wants to have some sort of family get-together, but he hasn't even told me he lied to his mom. And Ashley's stalking me along with Madison."

Ella's pretty nose scrunched up. "What are they saying? I mean, you know how I feel about you totes working with him as a couple. Or, you know, you in any fun relationship."

"Well, he _told _them that we were dating. But how many times do I have to tell him that I never want to be more than friends ever? The only person I'm close to dating isn't even…" I bashed my heel against the sink pipe and leaned back.

Ella broke into a wry grin, watching me closely. "Who? C'mon, you can't dangle secrets in front of me this way, Brennan! It's not Chance, is it?"

"He has a girlfriend. Who happens to be my stalker."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

I made a gagging gesture, but couldn't stop myself giggling with her. "No, that ship sailed a year ago. And Hannah's stalking opportunities are limited in prison."

"I am just kidding. You don't need to explain your whirlwind romance with Ben Blue to me." Ella laughed outright when I stared at her. "Was making out with him at the fair not enough of a signal?"

"Everyone else has just been ignoring it," I grumbled.

"Well rest assured, I'm now a complete and total Tory-Ben shipper." She crossed herself with a put-upon demure expression. "What'll your couple name be – Ten? Bentoria? Victen?"

"Stop it," I laughed, keeping half an eye on some freshmen who came in.

"No, this'll be great. Now you've come out and told me, I can tease you _all the time._"

"Only if you want me to tease _you _all the time about a certain friend of mine with a certain crush."

Ella groaned. "Don't go there! I'll have to channel my pity into violence, and then you'll be sorry."

"Not a true love match then?" I kept my tone light, but this was a topic that clearly had repercussions for me. Part of me would have liked my friends to be happy together. Most of me knew it wasn't practical until Hi became interested in weights and Ella became interested in World of Warcraft. Until then, I would rather keep relationships as unstrained as possible. After all, Ben and I had enough ups and downs to fill that quota (and then some).

Ella scrunched up her nose. "He's nice in a guy-friend way. Not…"

"Yeah, s'cool." I switched topics before awkwardness could develop. "What do you think I should do about Jason?"

Ella's contemplative expression immediately zapped back to business. "You have to talk to him privately and soon. As soon as possible. Get him to halt everything in its tracks. Make a deal that you'll not be a bitch about his lies if he stops it all right then."

"Whoa, horsey. This is all kind of specific."

"I've seen it too many times is all," Ella nodded sagely.

From there, we had giggled our way through to the end of the day. Word of a lacrosse championship win was filtering through by last period, and Jason texted me an invite to a celebratory boat party. They'd be travelling down this evening so no wonder tomorrow night was a perfect climax to the wave of victory they'd be riding at school tomorrow.

On consultation of Ella, she ordered me to do the cornering of Jason there. Private but not _too _private. I could stay for hours if I had to, and seeing as it was his parents' boat, Jase wouldn't be getting so trashed he couldn't steer it back into the marina.

Perfect.

And now, as I watched the white teeth of Candela loom on the horizon, I tried to sort through how to play it at the party. Stroking Cooper wasn't even calming me as much as usual, so it had to be bothering me more than I thought, since doggy therapy usually worked pretty well.

"You okay?" I was startled out of my thoughts by Ben. He was giving me a concerned look, handsome bronze features illuminated by the bright afternoon sun. I shielded my eyes and mustered a smile.

"Fine, yeah."

He shook his head, not shifting his eyes. "What are you worrying about?"

"I'm not –" I gave up. He knew me too well by now, a thought that brought a wry twist to my mouth. "The Jason thing. Ella convinced me to corner him at his stupid boat party tomorrow and force him to stop."

"How are you going to make that work?" Ben's expression had dropped into hardness. I pursed my lips.

"I… I don't know. I just…" I massaged my forehead. "I want _something _to be simple in my life."

Ben's gaze smouldered, a fiery fierceness only barely locked up by the stiff way he held his body. "I'm gonna kill him. The way he's treated you –"

"_Ben._" I leaned to take hold of his arm. He glanced down, eyes not moving up as I continued speaking. "I don't care what they think – that much. Please, just leave it. For me."

Feeling a familiar tickle behind my eyes, I tightened my hand and spoke directly to him now. _If we show up as a team, he'll be that much more obstinate._

"Maybe he'll back down more instead," Ben muttered mutinously. A second later, he frowned. "Hey, I can't speak to you the same way."

_Because you're not flaring? _I prodded mentally. Could feel that Ben was right.

"You weren't when you got mine and Shelton's thoughts there. None of us were."

That reminded me of another incident. A far scarier mental magic, also when I wasn't flaring… _Kit._ Maybe I accidentally thought that to Ben, and maybe he had access to all my thoughts now too, because he raised his eyebrows as I ran through that weird experience. I was suddenly desperately in need of a distraction from the upcoming island.

_Can I try something?_ I floated to Ben. He eyed me for a second then nodded slowly.

I hesitated and took my hand off his arm. Poked mentally but yep, I'd still be able to talk to him fine. What had I done before again? A little emotional trickery…

I concentrated on my dismay at returning to Candela's horrible labs. Focused on how glad I was that we were leaving. Pulled that feeling of relief at us leaving towards Ben so that there was a brief heat of us mentally touching, my wish that we were leaving wrapping around his mind. It slipped away again immediately, so I leant back and watched for what he'd report.

Ben blinked and narrowed his eyes slightly, shifting his gaze to the sea as he asked, "What did you do?"

I didn't answer for a moment. Then – "Where do you want to tie up on Cole?"

"I –" Ben stopped short. Shot me a sideways glance, and reached for _Sewee_'s rudder. "Why didn't you tell me we were going in the complete wrong direction?"

"We're not, we're not!" I hastily pushed the rudder back to the previous route, mind scattering, and left my hand in front of his. _It actually worked_. "I just tried, um…"

"Hey, what's going on up there?" Shelton called. "Hiram's about to bust any sec anyways without extra tacking."

I bit my lip before answering. "Sorry, I just brainwashed Ben into thinking we were on the return trip."

"_What?_"

"What."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. It accidentally happened with Kit yesterday…" A thought struck me and I twisted towards Ben again. "Do you remember me invading your mind?"

"Short answer: no."

"Long answer?"

"Will have to wait, because we're here." I hadn't even noticed us steering into the cove, but fortunately Ben had. I blew out a breath and closed my curiosity to that conversation. It was one to continue later. For now, we had to contend with our bodies' crazy DNA, potential pack-induced seizures, and Chance Claybourne.

* * *

"… proximity-related. So if we could have Tory and Ben for testing now, and use Shelton and Hi as a control group." Azad pointed at me, making his gun into a finger. "Remember the order!"

"Um…" I flicked a glance around guiltily, cursing my mind for wandering. "What is it again?"

Azad dropped the finger, looking hurt. "A special noise, yeah!"

Dear goodness, I really was going to have to drag it out of him. Awkward for all of us. "Which is?"

"The containment alarm, Victoria." My shoulders tensed as Chance strolled from the back of the lab towards the front. He was dressed in a white linen suit and pinstripe silk shirt today, as though he was on a break between games at his polo club. But I refused to turn my head to catch sight of him. "My, my, we really _aren't _paying attention today."

Unfortunate but true. It took a lot of my strength to not scowl, since I was determined to remain aloof of the Claybourne heir this time around.

Trouble was, of course, I was also trying to remain ahead of Madison, Madison's cronies, Whitney, Jason, internal attackers, and external attackers. The many plates I had spinning were proving a few too many to concentrate on at one time, and really, Azad had spent far too long on basic wolfpack structure for me to keep attentive.

"Piss off back to the Playboy Mansion," Ben spat.

"My property, my rules, Blue." Chance and his cold expression swaggered into my peripheral vision. "This is as much for your benefit as mine."

Ben opened his mouth to fight back, but I managed to fire back, _leave it. He's a twit we can ignore. _Our mental connection from twenty minutes ago was still open, but waning fast. Maybe that's what was draining my energy so quickly.

I was struck by the idea that I might be able to keep the mental connection open indefinitely. That would be a handier method of communication than text for sure. Couldn't be traced, couldn't get told off for it in class… and if that's where all the energy was going… wait, no. I couldn't quite connect that puzzle piece.

"_Tory!_"

My head jerked. Hi was waving his hands by his face in a 'look-at-me-crazy-person' gesture, but everyone except Ben wore impatient looks on their faces. This time, I did scowl for real.

"I'm having a minor epiphany. Do you have to keep rudely interrupting?"

"Do you always have to be snippy and sarcastic?" Chance fired straight back.

"That's just you that brings those qualities out in me," I told him. I wanted to try out this mind-speaking thing now, but I had a feeling it wasn't going to budge, certainly not with the Virals so on edge around Chance.

Better to try it later. At the séance.

As I brought my gaze front and centre again, I caught Shelton's eye for a second. In that flash, I knew _he _knew I'd maybe discovered something big, something I wasn't going to push any more here. Something that was more important right now than running this irritating tests one more time.

Our eyes disconnected.

"Hey," he said loudly. I recognised that tone; it was his 'I'm pretending I'm Hi, the master of annoying distractions' voice. "Why are we running these tests for the third time? We already did them twice, switching up the groups. Can't you just tell us the results already?"

Azad twitched, taken aback and unsure of how to answer. Susan's disembodied voice – ensconced as she was in an imaging cubicle – came back instead. "We gotta have three sets of data for a strict pattern."

"This isn't a scientific world," Shelton argued. His fingers twitched like he wanted to tug his earlobe, but admirably, he resisted. "Or not the _legal _scientific one. We're, er, protected test subjects. And this particular test subject can't spend hours here today."

Hi stared at Shelton with a wounded look and clutched his heart. "You dare to usurp me, the king of annoying interruptions?"

"Can we please just get your conclusions so far?" I tried politely. "We'll repeat the tests later if you need, but for now we're kind of pressed for time." I sent Azad my most winning smile. He shook his head, sending us a lopsided smile of defeat, and went off to retrieve his notes.

Chance, lolling on the bench in front of the one we were seated at, smiled at me lazily. _Damn. _He'd seen right through our fast-tracking distraction. "I don't suppose you'd mind sharing why you brought out the performing monkeys, Victoria?"

I didn't dignify that with a response. If Chance thought he'd get to me by coming up with meaner insults for my friends, he had another think coming. We'd been making so much progress in acting like mature people that this regression was almost disheartening, but then I remembered we had a hundred problems and Chance was very near the bottom of the priority pile.

_More like 'how' I brought them out, Chancey._

Beside me, Ben snorted. I hadn't even realised I'd floated that thought, but it was becoming more and more natural to communicate like this. The energy burn was fading to background noise as this easy-access channel got more and more decluttered.

I couldn't help but laugh a little too, then harder when Chance looked between us with such obvious confusion. _He really has no clue… Chance Clueless-bourne._

"Exactly," Ben muttered, grinning. I tried to bite down on my grin to hide it and failed. Better hope Claybourne hadn't noticed our exchange. It wouldn't do to have Chance discovering another Virals secret before we even knew how to work it.

Nevertheless, having Ben hovering at the edge of my consciousness cheered me up enough that I almost didn't mind when Susan followed Azad back to us looking like someone had died in here an hour ago.

"We've got two major potential puzzle pieces to feed back to you today," Azad started. In an uncharacteristically nervous gesture, he constantly shuffled the paper pile in front of him. "The first is what you've been asking for, Shelton. Using mostly data from how we cannot flare properly around each other, our current theory is that Tory's current so-called 'awareness brushes' are a part of a…. 'pack threat awareness' adaption."

Huh. I opened my mouth, but Susan shot me a look and I closed it again, feeling like a naughty child.

"As far as we can see, the flaring difficulties are either due to an adrenaline response or – as I think is more likely – hyperstimulation of the sympathetic nervous system. Easy to see why it might have developed in canines, to increase their fight for potential challengers, but for us… it means that the virus has set Chance and I against you."

Interesting. Sensing that speech over, I piped up. "So how come I'm getting the awareness stuff when I'm at school? Or Mag League?" I overtly slid my gaze to Chance. "Anyone making off-the-book social calls we should know about?"

"Oh, you'd know if I was following you, Tory," Chance said, casually examining his cuticles. "No worries there. Azad?"

"I've been here, working on unlocking these very mysteries," he said quickly. "Although there's still a lot I've still to work on with this aggression and territorialism. And social explanations. We'd really like to bring in another team member or two to work on the social side. There's some really interesting time-lapse tests we could run to maybe shed some light on this mind-body disconnection – "

"Stop." I held a hand up. Took a breath. "You know our feelings on external help. Even Chance enlisting your help was a lot more than we wanted."

"I'm also not feeling the science lab slumber party thing," Hi added. "I mean, do Dominoes even deliver here?"

"You say you want progress," Azad argued, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "We are not science machines. All these breakthroughs are happening very fast. Lots of luck, yes? But there is no coherent string of what is happening inside you. For that, we need a team, time-lapse tests, and time."

"We'll think about it." My tone made it clear that was the final offer.

Susan stepped forward now, pushing her glasses up her nose and exchanging a significant glance with Azad that I wished I understood. "So. I've been comparing your chromosomal sequences. Unfortunately, it's very difficult to be at all precise and we might be in the complete wrong ball park because there's no originals to compare against. Even samples from everyone's parents would make it easier. I know it might be difficult to talk your parents into giving samples, but if you could even gather hair samples and bag them up, we might be able to start making some actual progress on identifying the virus. Which is what you wanted originally." Susan raised her eyebrows and observed us.

My thoughts had turned dark. I almost said, _we can't always get what we want. _Restrained myself just in time.

The boys were probably glancing uneasily at each other, but I stared at my white knuckles until Hi spoke up. "I can get samples. But you don't need us all to do it, right?"

"Yeah," Shelton said quickly, obviously trying to dodge an emotional outburst, "just me and Hi. That's enough, right?"

"Well…" Susan glanced at Azad, obviously trying to work out what we were getting at. "We need as many participants as possible."

"Just try your best. We've got Mr Claybourne's DNA on file from before, so he's in the best position of all. But it doesn't need to be immediate," he added.

I dug my nails into my palm before looking up. Taking control of the topic and closing it. "I'll only be able to get one set of data. We'll have them in time for our next session."

My eyes didn't betray me. I held Azad's gaze for a moment, and he nodded reluctantly. Good; no fight this time. They didn't need any justification from me, and I didn't want to give it to them.

"What I have been able to work out so far," Susan continued, "is that the virus has been taking a while to seat itself in your bodies, but as more and more of your cells reproduce and are replaced with more evolved versions that co-ordinate with each other better, you've been slowly upgrading. Ever since you first caught parvo, really. Viruses evolve quickly, but it's been taking a while for your new cells to catch up, seeing as we think parvo only targeted certain cells." She shrugged. "It's far too early to tell yet. We'll run tests with chemical markers later to truly determine, but for now, symptoms and effects are the priority."

_The wolf is more seated in us. _I marvelled at this knowledge and couldn't help questioning. "So how has the virus affected the DNA?"

"You remember transcription and translation from two weeks ago?" Right. Hi's machinery analogy. I nodded to Susan and she continued. "We believe that originally the virus entered your nucleolus and attached to chromosomes 7 and 16. C7 is involved in instinct, but C16 is probably more important as it deals with knowledge and how cyclic AMP is produced or altered in neurones… so that's to do with memory. It's extremely complex, though, so I would suggest you spend three or four hours with the internet to understand the intricacies.

"However, this is starting to reach outside my understanding." Susan's voice was even tighter than usual. "In truth, since so many of your biochemical pathways have been affected, we're probably correct to assume that most all of your chromosomes have been altered in some way. You're coping well so far with the changes, and seeing as the evolution seems to concern canine qualities, the mammalian structures are very similar so minimally invasive compared to… well, another Class, like birds or amphibians."

"So it could be dangerous still?" Ben asked gruffly.

Azad paused before answering him. "Well… the changes are still happening inside you. We don't know what's going to happen. So, maybe it will be dangerous."

Oh. _I'd kind of assumed we weren't dealing with fatal changes any more, _I sent to Ben. He twitched an eyebrow by way of responding with 'yeah, me too'.

It probably shouldn't have surprised me so much that the disease was still so dangerous. After all, what was I expecting – that our continued evolutions would always be safe? No, that's why we were here.

Didn't mean I was happy about it. I made a mental note to do more research into theoretical human-animal hybrids.

The pressure of the ticking clock had just got that much greater.

* * *

**A/N: hello lovelies! Have a nice long chapter with lots of meat. Like, super-long - the longest yet because MERRY CHRISTMAS o8D (yes that is my attempt at a Santa emoji) - but there's also only one more prewritten chapter... which is scary. Since I've only written 600 words of Catalyst since the last update. (I have too many essays due and Bellarke plunnies!)**

**Hope it's not too confusing or OOC these days but I'm struggling a little to keep everyone in-character when I can only write 200-300 words per day. THANK YOU for my wonderful 90 reviews (which give me strength to continue) and 20 favourites, as well as 18 follows; I love being able to give something to the fandom and considering how much of a baby-fandom we are, this is phenomenal love, so thank you everyone :')**


	26. 3 - 3

**23.**

Time for the Bunker Séance. Hi had wanted a host of candles, patchouli incense, and 1790s organ music.

Shelton vetoed the candles on behalf of our sci-fi setup; Ben vetoed the 'music' on behalf of Cooper; I had trouble arguing with an increasingly irate Hiram about why the incense would not, in fact, add to the atmosphere but irritate the hell out of me. He won, largely due to his threat to substitute the patchouli for sandalwood.

We'd had to hit the townhouse complex before reconvening at our HQ. If nothing else, it was hard to escape Ruth Stolowitski for such a stretch of time, especially when she was so worried about "the nasty effects of end of term on my bubba". None of the boys would turn down her planned pack-size serving of ramen (always surprisingly tasty). Plus, Candela had been testing my mind-body sometimes-detachment. I'd only managed it right near the end of our session, but it had thoroughly exhausted me. Only our emergency stash of red bull had kept me focused enough for this séance, but the fallout was that I was having trouble sitting still. My crossed legs kept bouncing, eyes darting, as I waited for the stuffed-bellied boys to assemble themselves, and Coop had picked up on it.

"So," Shelton asked warily as he haphazardly hit the floor on my left, "how we doing this?"

Ben reluctantly slumped down on Shelton's left, scooching my wolfdog back into the centre of our pack square. When Cooper tried to yank away back through one of the gaps between our knees, Ben yanked him right back and gave a stubborn stare.

"Well, I've done a little research, and… I'm not really doing it the whole inviting-the-dead way."

"No chanting 'Bloody Mary' in a mirror then?" Hi blew out air. "I brought along my compact just in case."

"Er, no." I gave him a strange look. "We're going to flare together, then using the threads of who's broken into my mind before, pin down who it is."

There were about four seconds of silence where the Virals regarded me.

Hi broke first.

"Wait, you're not kidding?"

"Tory," Shelton pleaded, "tell me you've got more details than _that._"

"It's a great plan!" I protested. "I – okay, well, not _great. _But it's efficient."

"No it's not!" Hi again. "We can't even work out how to talk to _you _through our heads. We can't even control our own flares –"

"Neither can I."

" – yeah, we know, and you think we can help you pinpoint an unknown person – who has more powers than you, if they're repeatedly breaking into your head and causing seizures and stuff – using our flares in your head?"

"Yeah, alright, I'm doing most of the legwork here," I waved my hand, "but it's gonna be great. Now shush." I closed my eyes, then a beat later, opened one on impulse to grab Hi and Shelton's hands. Being physically linked might help.

"Is flaring going to be okay?" Ben asked carefully.

"Yeah. Probably. And before you ask, I'm a lot more in control of whose heads I invade nowadays," I said cheerily. "Oh, and join hands."

"Who's going to keep control of the wolfdog?"

"I will, as soon as we're flaring. I can talk to him then." I cracked an eyelid grumpily, only to find all three of the boys exchanging looks. "Oi! Hurry up!"

"Alright, alright," Hi grumbled, but they did as I asked.

Without further ado, I reached backwards in myself. _Jason, Chance, Madison… _I conjured up my anger at them, and it was enough for me to grasp my flare.

**_SNAP. _**Ice chased fire, snapping and welding. I could feel through my painful struggling that my friends' fingers had tightened in mine; the wolf had to break the shackles before it could come out to bite. Up, and up, and up; I was wound tighter, pulled tauter, pushed further into the furnace.

Then… over.

I was almost bowled over by the calm that followed this extra violent seizure, or maybe it was just the sensory overload. I had to stay with my eyes closed for a good ten seconds before I opened them to check in with the boys.

"All good?" I breathed. The words rang out with pure clarity, and three nods – plus a whine from Cooper – satisfied me.

First volatile step out the way. Now I just needed to establish open lines, and we could begin.

Closing my eyes again, I tried to delve inside my mind and stop concentrating on the physical. _Think mental landscape._ Breathed in and out, trying to conjure our connecting lines.

The flaming cords were hard in coming. Long moments passed as I tried my hardest to visualise them. I struggled with my frustration until letting out a low growl.

"Tor –?"

"Shhh! Not out loud!"

Did I even need the fiery ropes to speak to people? No, but it made it easier. I knew how they worked, even if it sometimes ended with me stranded in people's heads (accidentally). I didn't need a mental image to meld minds with people I knew like the back of my hand.

But. Too much Red Bull. Too anxious for an answer. Too much moonlight coming in, even though it was only dusk – it was full moon around this time of the month and the jitters _that_ brought were fraying my already shot nerves.

I struggled with my mind, far from meditative contemplation, for another minute before my eyes flicked open. The light blinded me for a second, my other hypersenses calming down a little as the balance was restored. Hi and Shelton were obediently sitting with closed eyes, although they looked uncomfortable about it. Ben, however, had cracked an eyelid and was watching me. He grinned when I scowled.

I sent my best _what are you doing with your eyes open? _expression to him.

_More like what are _you _doing? You're the one who wants 'em closed, _was his rolled-eye response.

_I can't figure out what's not going right!_ I frowned to him. Then a_ Too jittery _shoulder wriggle.

Ben thought for a second, then an idea crept across his face. Furtive, excited, a little intense… I studied it for a second, trying to work out where I'd seen it last. He had surely remembered a helpful thing from our past. Memories, memories… his face in darkness, his – _oh._

I bit my lip, face heating up, but didn't look away. Beneath the many smells in the bunker – most notably salt and mud – attraction increased. God, his face in this semi-dark, the intense expression, the hair falling over his ear like that, the lip –

When I pushed the pack mind again, it was melted enough for me to pull everyone together.

_YES! I'm in!_

_Aw man, _Hi thought. _Not sure if I'm glad I get to leave before midnight, or annoyed at being invaded again._

_Definitely the glad, _Shelton thought back.

_That was the prelim work, _I instructed them. _Now the fun begins. _I paused, surveyed the forms in my mind and tried speaking just to Ben's. _Thanks for the… help._

_What was that?_

_Hey! That's new!_

I frowned, resisting the urge to visually peer at the boys. _How did it seem to you two?_

_Like… a whisper shooting past. What _was _that?_

_Uh, direct communication while I'm also still on the main line,_ I thought hastily. _Now. Um. I meditate?_

Admittedly this wasn't my best plan, but I'd known that before coming here. Psychic powers weren't (yet) defined scientific procedures. I had no idea what I was looking for. Did I just… try to access the next level?

_What happens when you're attacked? _Ben asked. _Can you find that place in your mind?_

_Good plan. I'll try. _

I sat back and moved my consciousness into my mind. Mom had always had a word for this… mindfulness? Being aware of everything in your mind? Yeah, that was it. Well, I tried observing my consciousness like a blueprint. I could pinpoint where the attacker had come in, and where they'd ended up. Score one for Tory's mental mapping.

However, as the minutes inched by, I began to realise something very irritating: I couldn't make the attack-pathway in my mind match up to Virals-pathways. It was like trying to attach sand to a wave. I was the nub of the Virals communication, and they had felt my reaction to being attacked… so the pathway from attackeràToryàpack had to exist _somewhere._ I just couldn't locate it.

My pack were very patient as I stumbled through this desert of realisation. Someone would let out a bored huff every few minutes, but they stayed concentrated and with me. Being as it was full moon, they were probably all getting a quiet stream of my thoughts through, but nobody complained. Probably sensing my growing frustration, they'd be able to guess the potential unpleasant consequences.

Okay. Okay. I was calm, I could do this.

Except I couldn't.

_This is ridiculous. _I almost sent it to the boys, but fired it only to my dog at the last second. Cooper snuffled in response, but kept himself obediently in the centre of our small square for my sake.

Séances clearly weren't going to work for me if I couldn't connect the two train lines. But what did solve problems? Thinking things through. Right. If I sat down with this connection in place and worked through the jigsaw without anyone interrupting, we could get somewhere. So what puzzle pieces did we have?

If we were going internal attacking, not much. They happened at school or Mag League, so that could mean Charleston area or a debutante in my classes. They tried to force me to lose control of my body, but I was apparently getting better at fighting them off. The explosion of energy the seizures forced from me was similar to coming down off a flare, so they had be related to my Viral abilities.

Surely only another alpha could do this? It was like an amped-up version of some of my powers. That left the finger pointing at Chance and Azad. Or the runaway dogs. But I was supposed to trust them. I wasn't about to invite them to the bunker, and not after that heated argument with Chance, but they hadn't sold us out, and I trusted them to help us when we ran to them with information about attackers and our own flares.

This wasn't to say that everything they did was right, though. All this stuff about getting other scientists in? Playing with fire by dating Madison? Cornering me and attempting blackmail because there was a mutual underlying mystery? It probably wasn't fair to judge on character, but Chance's attitude was really starting to grate me –

Wait.

An idea shot through my mind too fast for me to make the connections properly, so I eagerly backpedalled. Chance's attitude, character, blackmail, Madison – _Madison. _That was it. The puzzle piece that didn't fit.

And what didn't fit? I examined her in my mind clinically, stepped back from events the way I couldn't quite with the attacker's mental path.

There were actually several things that didn't fit, now I thought about it. It wasn't that she'd told her therapist and reverend about my 'possession'; it was her mounted attack, and the fact that she was doing it _now, _not seven months ago. It wasn't that she didn't know about Chance's Viral status; it was that she obviously knew about me and had started dating him at the same time as starting this attack against me. It wasn't that she was watching me in the canteen earlier; it was …

No, it _was _that she was watching me throughout the episode in the canteen earlier. I examined this idea, turned it in my mind. I didn't get it. Out of all these contradictions, why was this one bothering me?

I imagined a box in my mind: Tory à Chance à Madison à ? But the only thing connecting us all was my evolved powers.

Nope, I didn't get it. I sighed out loud.

"What is it?" Hi blurted. Probably couldn't take the tension any longer.

"I've got a lead. But I can't work it out…" I huffed.

"So gather more evidence," Shelton offered. "We can help. But you seriously got this from a séance?"

"Not exactly," I hedged. "Although I like that idea about gathering evidence. Could we gather it _now?_"

There was silence from the boys. I cracked one eye, then the other, before giving up and letting the boys' hands go too. "Come _on. _This is a good lead."

"Sell it to me," Hi said stubbornly. "Your track record is mixed at best."

"Not true," I protested. "Every time we go on felonies, we get really important evidence! When has a b-and-e ever _not _been useful?"

"So we're looking at further potential criminal records." Shelton sounded kinda pissed. "We barely got by last time. It was only because of Corcoran's stupidity and dumb ambition our college transcripts weren't toast."

"What's the idea?" Ben asked slowly.

He was always on my side in these, and I appreciated that. Unfortunately, the plan was risky enough that I couldn't guarantee Shelton and Hi would budge. "Madison. She's got a wider role in this than just revenge on me, but I don't understand what."

"_Just _revenge_?_" Hi muttered.

"She's had the creeps about me for months, so why has she only just got all these people on my case now – at the same time that we start with Candela?" I met their eyes in turn. "I think there must be someone connecting us."

"So, Chance then," Hi said.

I scrunched up my mouth. "It's not that I trust him… but I really don't think he's double-dealing us. I think he's fishy!" I added over the loud protests erupting, "but I don't think he's actually double-bluffing completely."

"Is a potential semi-double-deal of Chance the lead for Madison?" Shelton asked warily. "Because I am not committing any felonies tonight, by the way, so get your alternatives cooking, Brennan."

"We won't be stealing anything!" I protested. _Probably._

_Heard that, _Ben noted across all our heads.

In desperate need of a decent argument now, I tried to shore up my pros. "This is a really important person we need to find out about, because what if it is Chance? He's the obvious suspect at the minute –" although what for, I was starting to lose sight of, "– and if it _is _him, we have to stop going to Candela asap."

"Aaand what does a visit to Chez Dunkle change about this?" Hi demanded.

"We nab her phone." Not that this was a plan I was coming up with off the top of my head… "We check her messages for arrangements concerning our internal attacks."

"How does one jailbreak a phone? And retrieve deleted messages?" Shelton asked grumpily. "_I _don't know how, and our Variance fund is cleaned out."

"I'll corner her and force her into doing it then forgetting it if I have to," I snapped. "Look, are you coming or not? _I'm _going." I glanced across the circle for a split second. "With Ben."

Squabbling broke out until Hi shouted over the top of everyone, "Cooper and I require your silence for the Lord of Light!"

It worked. We all four (including Coop) stared at Hi. "Um… why Cooper, too?" I ventured.

Hi glared. "Because that's the only way you'd listen to me. I think we need to discuss this without you in here. Your case is made, Tory. Give us five minutes without listening in and disconnect your flare. Then we'll see."

It was a good plan. I really would need their help to pull this off, too; at least Ben, for the transport, but he would be more of an asset in talking the other two round to battle. So I nodded, hooking Coop's collar as I stood up stiffly and dragged him out the crawl space into the night air.

As we messed around in the dunes for a few minutes, I idly considered how our misadventures with the Gamemaster last fall had been the beginning of a chain reaction. That had been what began the inter-mind exploration, what opened a chasm between Ben and I for so long, what first brought Chance and Madison together, and caused Chance to look into Karsten.

_In a chain reaction, every separate reaction has a separate enzyme to catalyse it_. So what if these weren't the reactions but the enzymes? What unknown catalyst had we been thrown into – and what would be left afterwards?

I just knew in my gut that it was important we went to scout Madison's. That would help quell this feverish inaction. Hopefully.

I focused on paying Coop proper attention as we scruffed around for a few more minutes.

The boys crawled out to me, Ben first, then Shelton and Hi bringing up the rear. Their faces were impassive, but I ruffled Cooper's ears and stood up with as innocent an expression as possible.

"So," I said casually, "who gets the flashlight?"

* * *

Half an hour later and we were casually leaning against railings South of Broad. Salty scents from the water were washing over me, pleasantly filling my flared brain and calming me somewhat in the face of slow 3G. I had a feeling from Ben's deepened but slow breathing that he was doing the same.

Hi, on the other hand, had sweat patches expanding by the minute. It didn't help that our flares were kind of wild tonight; it added an instability to the situation that I didn't really feel it needed.

I could sense the boys agreed. Between Hi's psychotic bouncing, Ben's barely-working relaxation breathing, and Shelton's fast blinking in the light of his phone, we were going to draw attention to ourselves from the late-evening tourists as potential delinquents soon.

I sent a prayer up to the gods of Google Street View that it would load faster. Shelton had grabbed Madison's address off the Mag League website's Division Directors contact area. Now we were just finally checking the house two down on the opposite side of the road was definitely Madison's crib. It would be one thing to break into her house for clues; quite another to break into _the wrong one._

"Bam!" Shelton's breathed word carried easily, and I hurriedly peered over his shoulder. My eyebrows rose.

"Wow, good thing we checked." It was _three _down on the opposite side.

"Fail to plan…" Hi blew a breath out, making his fringe partially unstick. "I don't know if this makes me feel better or worse."

"Definitely better." Ben clapped a hand on Hi's shoulder, making him jump. "Imagine getting jailed for a _useless _break-in."

"That's going to happen either way," Shelton mumbled, widening his eyes innocently when I shot him a glare.

"Hey, we have no guarantee of that! I've got a _great _gut feeling about this." Nobody argued. I resisted the urge to beam victoriously. "So, we just have to swing into her backyard, find which is Madison's balcony, and make it up there. I've heard Courtney saying before how she always leaves it open for Chance and dangles down rope or something to let out guests." I shrugged. "A final test for suitors?"

"Not to ruin that plan, but I'm pretty sure Madison isn't expecting any of us," Hi interjected. "Not that she'd be able to turn me down if she knew."

"Yeah yeah, you'd have it all sorted out in no time." I rolled my eyes. "I was thinking drainpipes. Or maybe a trellis. They seem like the sort of people who'd have a trellis the size of New England attached to the back of the house."

"And do we have any other ideas in the works if Madison's house does actually have the most basic security?"

"Ben brought _Sewee_'s rope." Not answering the question, but I ignored the implications of his question. Sloppiness brought on by desperation. "Chill, Shelton." I rubbed my hands together and turned to survey the railings. They were stationed atop a brick wall, so we'd each jump onto the wall and carefully climb over, dropping into the garden. The lack of streetlights was all we had going for us; we'd just have to pray nobody saw us.

Even I was feeling uncomfortable with that particular detail, but I wasn't about to let on. I _knew _there was something wrong at Madison's; I _knew _we needed to get there.

With a head motion to the boys, I casually jogged across the street and executed the planned swing-up, hand-brace, and leg-over movement swiftly. Perhaps not gracefully, and I stumbled for several feet on the jarring landing, but it seemed to instil confidence in everyone enough for us to all make it over with only one ripped pants leg between us.

I glanced around the magnolia bushes we were standing in. Tried to gauge the house. If we crept through the flowerbeds, we'd make more noise but be harder to see. On the other hand, the house seemed completely dark.

I made the executive decision and pushed my way to the edge of the lawn. If a light came on, we could jump straight back into the painstakingly curated flowerbeds. For now, I was confident in our hypersenses to warn us if we were observed. Maybe that was stupid, after such topsy-turviness in the last month, but I couldn't find it in me to care. I needed answers too badly.

Double-checking the pack was with me, and mentally checking in with Coop moored on _Sewee_, I set off at a creeping lope. The front lawn was an impressive half-hockey-pitch size, and bore an obnoxious volume of floral scents. I imagined the flowers to be as over-primped and brash as Madison herself, and took great pleasure in stomping on one dahlia head that was stuck out a little too far.

Even with our near-silent treads and fast pace, there was a pervading, anxious sense of overexposure. At the end of the day, we were four teenagers sneaking around to the back of the house, and while we were careful to blend in with the bushes next to us in case of CCTV, Shelton _had_ been correct about the many security risks.

The dark grass sounded unbearably loud as we crept quickly forward. I concentrated on it as we bypassed the long side of Madison's grey-brick mansion, and passed into what would classify as the back lawn. I paused on a parallel with the back corner of her house.

_We can make a break for it across the lawn, or go the long route round the back of her garden and back out,_ I sent to the boys. _Any preferences?_

Ben and Hi voted lawn. I agreed; the house was pitch-black aside from ground-level windows. Hopefully the Dunkles were as cheap as the Claybournes when it came to light bills and hired help and, luck of luck, were out with few guards left here.

_Did nobody ever tell them the first trick of keeping burglars away? _Hi wondered.

_This feels too easy,_ Shelton floated uneasily.

I agreed, but after taking several seconds to listen for any and all possible clues to CCTV, rigged traps or laser-beam gnomes, decided to take the chance for now.

With a last glance around, I opened my mind to the Virals so they would see what I was doing. Then I tensed my muscles – crouched – flew across the croquet lawn and in a blink was pulling myself up one, two – toes finding almost non-existent cuttings to spring from here, here, up and up –

And then I was crouched over Madison's dark window, toes on her ledge and fingers clutching the top of the window frame. Body still carefully held, I chuckled lowly to myself, the sound carrying across in the wind.

Even just jogging the gleaming glass with my knee, I could hear the wood bumping wood – and no metallic long clank.

Her window was open.

_Bingo._

* * *

**A/N: so this was written over about a month between that illness and interviews. It might not make sense, but I had (drawn-out) fun?! It is also my last backlog chapter. AKA, the updates will only be done as fast as I can write… apologies in advance. **

**Also I want to say thank you so, so, ****_so _****much to my wonderful reviewers. The few who come back and review every time in particular, because it means an incredible amount to me and really encourages me so much. Thank you for always boosting my confidence! Over 90 shows of love is incredible and I'm so lucky to have such lovely readers.**

**NEXT TIME: plot twist. That's all I can say. **


	27. 3 - 4

**24.**

Slowly, I allowed my concentration to open up to the other Virals again, intending to scope them out and deal instructions. Yep, there was the snarky comment from Hi; there was the clinical but jittery observation and plan from Shelton; there was the preparation to go from Ben…

But something tickled my mind.

Cooper. He had picked up on something.

With a conscious relaxation of my mind, I opened more of my senses to him, let our minds meld in a way that my dog never minded (unlike the rest of the pack). As he entered my mind more, a detail became larger, and I frowned at the doggy images he was planting, trying to make sense of the random sequence of sounds and smells.

The last time this had happened, it had been when the Gamemaster's rigged gun shot at us, and I only survived a bullet in the spine because of the iPad.

(Even as this went through my mind, the listening Virals started clamouring.)

Now… it wasn't life-threatening, but Coop was sending a sense of urgency. Down, he was thinking, danger around, not right _down_.

_What, boy? Garden, people, house?_

_House. In._

_People in?_ I tried, but Cooper's sense of urgency trickled through. I tried not to get impatient. _Found? Why?_

In Cooper's mind, I needed to jump almost straight down, but I was loath to leave my hard-earned vantage spot. I floated the instruction to the rest of the pack instead: _Cooper needs you to check whatever's below me._

_On it, _Hi answered. His fast footsteps swished across the grass a moment later, and I tried to ignore the shaking of my muscles as long seconds stretched out.

_What is it? _I sent impatiently.

_Weird noise at this door, _Hi sent back, a set of confused scents and sounds layering his words. _Pretty sure we should bail if the pooch is ordering us to._

I considered those words. Coop certainly wasn't happy, but it had been such a fight to get here. _Just get Shelton, please?_

When all the Virals were gathered around the door below, it only took a moment for a scuffle to break out. Ben was blocking Shelton's way, and Shelton shoved him out the way with lock picks in hand. Ben shoved back with a greater force, sending Shelton into the door.

I would have been annoyed that they couldn't leave it even for a moment.

Except for the fact that the Georgian-style back door opened right under him. Shelton Devers went sprawling head-first into Casa Dunkle.

My mouth hanging like a flytrap, the shock reverberating through our pack bond had my vision consumed by a joint visual from Hi and Ben: the image of Shelton prone on the black-and-white tiles. _We're so done for _echoed across our minds.

We all stayed statue-frozen, braced for the piercing betrayal-wail of burglar alarms. Several long seconds dragged by.

But…

Nothing.

Shelton moved first. _Come on! Hustle out!_ We all felt the stinging slap of his palms on the tiles.

_Why?_ Ben challenged. _Could be a lucky opportunity we should take._

It was then that my brain felt that tickle of awareness. I tried not to let my associated feelings of dread seep into the others.

_It's definitely a trap! _Shelton bawled internally, haring back out of the house and leaving Ben to haul the door shut. Hiram was already inching along the outside of the house, his face squinting up.

"Tory!" Hi had apparently been the only one paying attention to the pack visuals of my fixing the window. I ignored him, and swung a foot inside Madison's room instead. "Tory, get back here. Victoria, don't you dare –"

I slid the rest of my body in. Landed with a light _thump. _Scanned the near-black room with my eyes, but some other senses were going haywire, so I took a tentative sniff. The resulting onslaught of Victoria's Secret scent bottles, cosmetics, and fancy fabrics made me tear up.

_But. _

Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked, and as I strained my ears, the faintest brush of foot on carpet could be heard. The 'foreign person' smell grew much stronger.

_There's already a burglar in here… and that's why all the defences are down…_

I stayed frozen, stuck between moving back out and hiding. Would they know I was here? How would they react? And why were they here at the same time as us?

I could hear nothing now. I concentrated on keeping my breathing near-silent instead.

For seven breaths, nothing. My muscles screamed for action. Then in the dark, my eyes snagged on Madison's door. It was inching open.

I shot backwards, fast as a bullet, and threw myself out of the open window. Remembered to roll as I landed, so that when I hit the ground I only muddied my knees and hands, and knocked the breath from my lungs. I staggered to my feet from my position on my back. Glanced over my shoulder while breaking into a sprint for the front of Madison's house.

I caught the gleam of eyes in the dark, staring, as the Virals peeled away from the building to tail me.

I had thought I couldn't run any faster; I was wrong.

* * *

"What was that? _What was that?_" Hi had descended to official loondom. I wasn't feeling too sane myself, and didn't move to stop him gripping his head and twisting side to side. "What – was – that?"

It went without saying that our flares had snuffed it somewhere along the two-mile Great Esscape. My mind was scattered enough without the extrasensory deets barging in with useless info about the texture of the surrounding commercial skips.

"So someone else had already broken in," Ben said tightly. "They disabled all the alarms and stuff. So what?" He was turned to face me, brow furrowed.

_What are you doing?_ I asked, face creasing. Talking felt like too much of an effort when I was bent double in an attempt to catch my breath from the super-sprint. I'd even stayed ahead of Ben, so fuelled by the heebie-jeebies from our stalker burglar.

Ben's eyebrows crept up his face. "Seriously? How are you _still_ doing that?"

_Sorry… it's just easier right now._

"Really?" Ben's tone was coloured with disbelief.

I nodded my head and focused on his words. He was trying to help us talk this through for the answer. "So... they have technical expertise. And they probably knew Madison wasn't in."

"They weren't amateurs," Hi said between pants. "But they were in the same time as us so what, they're tracking us?"

"Coincidence?" Shelton suggested. As my mouth opened, he rushed to add, "although _yes,_ we know you don't believe in it."

"Good." I straightened from the half-crouch into a standing, arms-crossed posture, and tried to kick my brain into gear. "So if they were following us... They were probably with the external attackers. Mine and Ben's attacker."

"How did they know we were there?" Shelton demanded. "And how many –"

I held up a finger for him to halt and ran the words through my head again. An answering idea flashed into my mind and transmitted into the rest of the pack's before I could hold it back. "Oh, _shit_. Oh, man."

"No. That can't be right...?" Shelton sounded extremely unsure.

_Let's face it_, Hi bounced to us, _I can do this: break into your heads when none of us are flaring. Why _couldn't_ they break into our heads?_

All three of us stared at Hi in shock. _I thought only_ I_ had access when we're off-air!_

Hi sent an uncomfortable shrug my way. _I only just felt how to send it back._

_Maybe you can explain to Ben and Shelton too then… Can you direct message?_ I suggested. _To just one of us, I mean._

Hi narrowed his eyes in concentration, and a moment later the faint words _I think so_ came through to me. They made me stand straighter, grin in delight.

_This is one handy alternative to texting! Now we just need to get the other two on air. _

"Alright, that's useful, but can we focus on the actual burglar who may or may not have been able to read our damn minds?" Shelton snapped. From the minor cuss, I knew he must be on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. Not that it kept my nerves less frayed.

"How could they read our minds, though?" I demanded.

"How can you read ours?"

"We're Pack," I near-growled.

"Maybe another Pack then." Hi stroked his chin. "And I'm pretty sure this isn't prejudice – but that would strongly suggest ya boy Chance. But if the coast looks clear right now, can we _please _jump aboard _Sewee _and head home? It's already ten minutes past my curfew and the tide's against us."

Ben checked his watch and cursed under his breath. "Still. Nice choice of exit route, Tory." We were only five minutes from the dock.

"Well, thinking under pressure is my thing." Except apparently I couldn't come up with any workable answers tonight. Hi's point about Chance was so logical that I couldn't find a single evidential argument against it; even the 'other-pack awareness' had been there. _But. _For reasons I couldn't explain, it just didn't feel like Chance. And why would he have to break into his girlfriend's house?

These were hardly empirical enough to demolish Hi's argument. The childish urge to stamp my foot sent me up to the wall to kick that instead.

I'd thought Madison was our only lead from the failed séance. But when I finally got into her room, one of our stalkers almost caught up, and watched us run.

Hang on.

Everyone was turning to go as I let out a groan. In response to the raised eyebrows, I explained morosely, "if our burglar didn't know we had Viral powers before, they definitely do now."

We bickered all the way to the dock and across the Atlantic.

* * *

I crept in through the front door twitching with paranoia, disarming the house alarm in as few beeps as possible. There were plenty of upstairs lights on, so I was hoping from whatever distraction to avoid a confrontation with Kit tonight. Well, I had my fingers crossed. Telling me this morning that "we'll talk about this later" was not the most inspiring statement that I could avoid the conversation where I explained a) why I'd been out late, and b) why I'd not told him.

But as I hovered indecisively in the hall, resetting the alarm for the night, I heard snatches of shouts. Or rather, as close to shouting as they would get with each other, which was raised voices. Kit only roared when someone was in serious danger; Whitney allegedly never spoke at unladylike volumes, although I suspected her screech could trounce most Southern Belles when pushed to her limits.

And right now, I couldn't deal with either of them. Worn thin from the boys' bickering, I was being forced to consider Chance a very real threat, and there were fifty million things I wanted to google before having to deal with this Kitstorm.

But evidently my luck had run out at Chez Dunkle, because as I reached the first floor landing, trainers in hand, Kit dropped from the final stair and pinned me to the wall with a stare. "Tory. It's super late. And, of course, we had no idea when you'd be home."

"I'm sorry, Kit," I started, but he cut me off.

"You know, if you don't want to have a healthy father-daughter relationship – or, you know, as healthy as we can make it, and I thought we were doing a pretty good job – then you don't have to explain why – why Madison Dunkle is telling the world you _possessed _her. And you don't have to ask for my help. But I want to give it, Tory, and I want to know what's wrong. But you have _got _to start taking _us_ seriously." He rubbed a hand through his already-spiked hair and across his eyes.

In my frozen silence, I noticed how exhausted my father looked. Rings under his eyes; fresh lines on his forehead; bloodshot eyes. The heavy steps upstairs indicated an angry Whitney… had they actually been fighting? Properly? I didn't like the resident Barbie, but I had to admit I'd rather she stayed if it made Kit happy.

I opened my mouth, but he just turned and slowly started back up the stairs. "I'm trying to make it work. It's your turn."

I was left alone in the hallway. I was officially lower than pond scum.

Only the small internal voice saying I had to use this anger, direct it against our enemies with the hazy half-realisations I was coming to, kept me from crawling after Kit and apologising for everything.

There was exactly one image at the centre of my mind that was sustaining me, that had come to me as we trudged the last metres through Morris. A detail that had snagged something and I needed to hash out. _The unconscious plane._

Susan had said last week that our flaring brains showed random spots of delta waves – brainwaves that Jung had theorised allowed access to the collective unconscious.

My mind whirled while my body robotically carried out the tasks of brushing my hair and teeth, carrying me from the bathroom to my bed until I was sat in front of the bright computer screen with no idea how I'd gotten there. Didn't matter anyway. What did matter was this: I was the Viral with most delta spots, and I was the Viral with most mental 'access'.

_So what if my brain has learned how to think in a certain way?_

It might be that flaring had unlocked a certain brain pattern. It was entirely possible; Tempe had once told me we shared 91% of our DNA with dogs, so their 9% DNA difference could enable them to use delta waves consciously. And from what Candela had taught us about DNA, I knew that such 'collective unconscious' primal coding could simply be sitting in our 98% of so-called junk DNA (so named because it doesn't code for proteins).

Canines could clearly access it on a level we couldn't. And since I had primary evidence that some of the other kooky dog stuff – like sniffing emotions – was true, why not this? A doggy collective unconscious, with human processing.

_Oh God._

I was getting a rust-tasting, punched-in-the-gut feeling from this thought train. It was the confirmation I had been looking for all along, the fog of instinct I'd been trying to capture at the séance. But it was keeping that detail of our EEG waveforms at the centre of my understanding that was the angle I'd been looking for all along; the correct magnification to view the evidence through. The catalyst for my understanding.

I jolted back to my body as something heavy hit the floor upstairs. It sounded like a glass paperweight of Whitney's, and prompted me into hustling from the desk chair into bed.

The cool sheets felt heavenly against my fevered skin, but my tired mind wouldn't stop whirling around one crucial thought:

_So who has more control over the collective unconscious than me?_

* * *

**A/N: YOOO GUYS. You possibly thought me dead there. I thought me dead for a while too. I mean, I haven't written in 51 days, until this Friday 13th. And I am so so sorry, I just completely fell off the writing horse from real life stress.**

**But boy, oh boy, am I back on! Your awesome reviews trickling in have kept my mind ticking over _Catalyst_ even while not writing (especial thanks go to Heslen because your reviews were the final kick I needed!). And I had lost my way with how I was going to write Ben/Tory but I've been marathoning Parks &amp; Rec and Andy/April has totally given my Bentoria life again! (No idea why. They're not even similar.)**

**I sound kind of intoxicated right now but it's actually just a writing high; I feel like I can breathe again from this. Thank you thank you for all the follows and favourites in my absence, and every one of my glorious 99 reviews. I love every reader! **

**Also. I haven't read _Terminal_ yet because it's not out on Kindle yet. And I'm sad I didn't get _Catalyst _finished in time for _Terminal, _but at least I got 70K words written for it ;)**

**NEXT TIME: fighting with one boy, fighting with another boy, and Hi's boat shirt**


	28. 3 - 5

**25.**

"I've figured it out!" I bawled down the dock, almost tripping over my backpack as I hightailed it towards my unimpressed friends aboard _Hugo_. Kit had already been gone when I made it into the kitchen, Whitney unusually still in bed, so I just had Cooper to distract me from my extreme guilt.

I needed to make it up to my father, and soon. I had already texted him (to no reply) about going over to Ella's this evening. But for now? I was about to explode their worlds.

"What's up, Tor? You're late, again." Hiram was tapping his watch and looked mighty unimpressed from underneath his bed-hair. "If you'd warned me, I could have tried out my new boat shirt on you for the ride. It's green and orange. Very slick." I stuck him with my elbow and bounced on the balls of my feet, apologising nicely to Tom Blue, who only vaguely nodded as he cast off. I'd got off easy.

"I'm about to blow your brains out," I whispered breathlessly, plonking down on the bench in the stern and shoving hair out of my eyes. "I've figured it out."

"Yeah, you said." Shelton swung down next to me, eyes wide. "But figured _what_ exactly? And don't we need Ben for this?"

I grinned widely. "Give me one second…"

Closing my eyes, I hoped desperately that my confidence – born from the new-found knowledge about our own minds – was not rash.

Golden sparks fizzed behind my eyelids as I shot down the mental pathways and almost immediately snagged Ben's consciousness. His mind was dimmer than usual from the distance, hazy, and it took more energy than I was used to – but I still managed to shoot a _Ben!_ into his mind.

I presumed he'd gotten it, but how to open the pathway back?

I pulled my forehead together in concentration, imagining a golden track running antiparallel to this one. I cleared it of junk and connected it to both our consciousnesses and then – _Tory?_

_Yes! Ohmygod._

_What's going on? How can I do this now?_ He was fading in and out a little but when I focused hard Ben's voice was clear as day.

_I've figured it out,_ I shot back, _and I need to tell you all. I'll just bring the others in._

Opening my eyes, I grinned at Hi and Shelton like the Cheshire Cat, remembering to lower my voice just in time. "Guess who's managed to set up Ben's mental messaging?"

"How. How have you managed it after all those fails?" Hi demanded.

"One sec," I promised, squeezing my lids shut again.

It took another moment of pressing against the walls of my mind, but managed to draw in the other two quickly, pooling the spool so we had an open forum. It took concentration, but I could keep everyone connected and open just by myself, without needing the cords to flame up.

_Guys? _I tested.

_Wow._

_What the actual hell?_

_You really did figure it out._

_Yeah I did,_ I shot back in, _and it's all a matter of perspective…_

I quickly ran through last night's revelations, explaining how I thought we were all learning to access the collective unconscious. _That would explain why I kept having random blips of hearing other people's voices, like yesterday in the cafeteria._

_Wait, you heard other people's voices – in your head?_ Alarm rang from Ben's mind to ours. _Tory – _

_I'm sorry,_ I replied immediately, trying to push away the seeping guilt. _But more importantly, I think it means that our internal attacker can access the mutt collective unconscious in this same human way we can._

There was silence for a moment as the boys pondered this. I opened my eyes for a second, sitting up to take in the beautiful sun-dappled waves around us and the soft lap of the ocean against the ferry. We really did have the most beautiful ride to school.

_So this… it means Chance is definitely our guy. _Hi's voice layered the sound of seagulls.

"Tory?" My head jerked at Tom's voice, my focus snapping to him. But the boys were still connected to my mind, and I was very aware of their alert presence.

Tom jerked his head towards the front of the boat. I had no choice but to stagger up and wobble my way down till I was gripping the side opposite Ben's dad. "Hey Tom. What's up?" The casual conversation starter belied my internal anxiety that this was not a quick check-in.

"I trust you," Mr Blue began, stiff-shouldered. "And this isn't some sorta warning, Tory. But just listen for a moment, because I've got to say this."

I nodded warily. He was speaking softly enough that I knew he wasn't intending to embarrass me, or make the words count for Hi and Shelton too. And he probably wouldn't want Ben to hear.

Okay, scratch that. He _definitely _wouldn't want Ben to hear.

Knowing the boys were still getting a full 360 of my situation, I gathered the spool of golden lines in my head and cut them. My shoulders immediately relaxed, but Hi's groan reached me from the other end of the ferry.

Gossip-monger. This was private.

I focused on Mr Blue as he fixed his gaze on the horizon. Calm, collected; he was a more amiable version of his son, and I wondered if that was from time or temperament.

A lot of me wanted to find out.

"Ben's got a lot on his plate right now. The change of schools… well, we all know it wasn't ideal." Tom nodded slightly as the Charleston smudge emerged ahead. "SATs are coming up. Wando seems to be preparing him about as well as Bolton, all things considered."

Meaning, the Bolton teachers were biased towards going the extra mile for students who could pay them handsomely for it. I nodded in understanding, sensing I needed to hold my tongue for once. Ironic, considering I was in the presence of one of the least verbose people I knew.

"But still. New school, new people, new routine. And not as much of you guys. I'm not saying what is going on between you – yourself and Ben, or all four of you kids, or even Chance Claybourne – Kit mentioned y'all were in some crazy scheme with him but…" Tom shook his head. "Could you be kind, Tory? If you're going to stay for good this time, then stay." My cheeks began to flame and I was suddenly very glad Tom was fixed ahead. He wasn't judging, which I appreciated, but he was safeguarding his son. "You're good for my boy. Except when…

"Well. Just be kind. I know he can handle whatever crazy schemes you four get yourselves into." That was something refreshing to hear, although I knew that it hardly meant Tom was happy with us gallivanting about breaking laws. I smiled slightly anyway, but the corners of Tom's mouth were turning down.

"What he can't handle – or, I mean, what I'm worried about – it's the other stuff. Nice girl like yourself, don't…"

I swallowed. Made myself finish the cheesy-lyric sentence so this didn't drag out any longer. "Break his heart." Cleared my throat. "Got it."

Tom slid me a sideways glance and nodded. "Thanks."

"Any time," I mumbled, pushing a hand against one cheek, then the other, in an attempt to cool them as I moved away.

_Ugh. _Definitely not a good idea to go back online with the others now. Heaven knows I still wasn't all that great at controlling what transmitted to the boys, and we were already awkward enough about the whole situation without my adding fuel. Pretending the tension didn't exist just didn't work out in the long run, and we all knew it, but somehow, it's what we were still doing.

_What _you're_ still doing,_ my Mom voice reminded me.

Yeah. It was my fault. What else was new?

I would make a start on fixing the whole mess tonight. What better place to disentangle myself from Jason's web of exaggeration than his own boat?

"So." Hi dragged out the vowel, knocking me from my reverie. "What was that about?"

"Nothing." He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, exchanging a glance with Shelton, but didn't push it. I sighed. "Well, obviously not _nothing._ But nothing new. Just a… personal reminder."

"You want to try that group chat again?" Shelton's change of subject was a welcome one, but I had to shake my head.

"Don't think I've got enough focus for it again. We can try again later?"

A round of nods from the boys. I fired a slightly awkward text to Ben explaining we were going to leave it. Even that sent a shot of guilt reverberating through me. From Hi's grimace, I guessed he was still connected on some level, and had felt the hit.

Just another problem to sort through: were we ever going to be able to properly unhitch our emotions?

Later. Today, I needed to focus on getting a foolproof action plan for tonight in place. And that meant a good speech outline, leaving Jason and I friends, but with a clear line in the sand.

_Get to, Tory. _I reached into my bag for my notebook and tried my hardest to ignore the sideways glances Hi, Shelton and even Tom sent me for the rest of our journey.

* * *

6.30pm, chewing on pizza and Ashley Bodford at Ella's. We'd gone half-and-half on the Dominoes.

Ashley had provided an unwelcome distraction from my revelations by spreading nasty rumours about me. "Not even subtle," Ella growled around her Vegorama. "That bitch definitely wanted you to hear."

"Well, yeah." I swallowed, reached for more of my Double Bacon Cheeseburger. "Otherwise she wouldn't have told Maddy so loudly as I passed." I shook my head, running through our past couple of weeks. "Talk about bipolar."

"She really can't decide whether she wants to be your bezzie or your nemesis," Ella grumbled. "But why does giving you a bad rep add to either?"

I wasn't sure either. One thing I did know: our pack's hanging out with Chance had finally been noticed by the outside world. I suspected Maddy as the leak. She was the one dating him and all. It was only a matter of time before the witch-hunter realised what was up.

And really, that meant that our time was ticking for some sort of cover story about our Viral powers…

_Oh man. We're so screwed._

Had that thought reached the others too? My mind had become a confusing mass of semi-privacy. Or, more disturbingly, semi-openness. I was not a fan of being an open book, to say the least.

I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms. Tried to convince myself it didn't matter now, we couldn't know till our next Candela date, which wasn't yet scheduled.

"I mean, at least it was an unoriginal rumour. And not too horrendous. Comparatively." Ella looked up at me through her eyelashes, but I twisted my lips, semi-amused.

"She said Jason and Chance were both paying me." Ella's expression didn't shift. "For romantic 'favours'. It doesn't get much worse than that, Ells."

"Sure it does," she said casually, "you could be the one paying them for sexcapades. But!" she caught sight of my unimpressed face. "That is not the point. You should really run Ashley through tonight. Make her back off. Take Madison down while you're at it."

"Ashley I could face and hope to win, but Madison…" I shook my head. "Tried there, failed that. And Jason is still the top priority."

"Sure thing, as long as you do it properly, and not some half-assed job that makes another enemy." Ella's words of wisdom rang true. It was a possibility I hadn't actually considered yet. It made me wince just imagining all the resulting problems.

There were just _so many._ I dropped my head into my heads as I ran through them all. It was almost like a prayer: internal attackers, external attackers, Madison's hunt, Jason's lies, Chance's loose cannon act, our mutating DNA, failing Kit…

What I wouldn't do to be back in the bunker with the boys, oblivious to rampant viruses and smitten lacrosse-players and all the problems they had brought. It brought my familiar vein of tense irritation to the fore; I tried to push it back. That particular reflex of emotion was starting to feel like a long, knotty muscle that needed a good massage so I could move freely again.

If only I could find the damn solution.

_One thing at a time. Tonight: Jason._

I shook my head to clear it. "So we need to clear Jason. I've got a good three-point plan of the breakup speech. Well. Fakeup speech."

"Of course you do. But do you have something hot to wear?"

I stopped. Groaned. Dropped my head to the table. "Of course I forgot clothes. _Of course._ I clearly wanted to wear this sexy tartan skirt to a damn boat party."

"Makes my job easier then," Ella said breezily. I turned my head to raise an eyebrow at her.

"What job?"

"The one where you wear what I tell you. Because now, you have no choice." Ella grinned wickedly at me, standing up expectantly, and I just held out my hand in surrender for her to pull me up.

We skittered into the corridor, past the mahogany sideboards lined with orchids in wafer-thin Oriental vases, socks skidding across the gleaming white tiles. I had been in her house before, but each time the entrance hallway's magnificent antebellum flying staircase caught my breath. Ella had jokingly called it the 'stairway to heaven', her quip made poignant by the fact that it would have cost so much to put in the house all those decades ago.

The carpet whispering under our quick steps, I trailed my free fingers up the mahogany banister behind me. Polished to near-perfection, there were occasional fingerprint blemishes I put down to my friend. Her lack of care for the fussy niceties of traditional South of Broad homeowning was a comfort to me, the boat kid.

Pulled along past the stern ancestors' portraits and abstract coastal paintings, I was only released once we were inside Ella's bedroom. She beelined for her walk-in closet. I did a surreptitious sweep with my eyes, drinking in her cool minimalist white bedroom. Too messy for a catalogue, but the setup was copied straight from _Home &amp; Living. _

Yeah, I had major bedroom envy. But then, I was allowed a dog. Cooper was worth more than any material possessions.

"Tory!" Ella staggered back in with piles of clothing in her arms, dumping it in the middle of her duvet then shoving items into two rough piles. She stood back proudly, hands on hips. "You're on the left. We're sorting your outfit first, no budging. And before we start, can I just say that I think that now is totally the time to begin your era of dresses."

"I completely disagree." Dresses were probably the hardest thing to run in that I could think of, and the deb balls had left me with a strong fear of unnecessary corsets.

But I grinned in anticipation. Dress-up would be fun.

* * *

Ella had got her wish, but I promised this would be the only night. Even if I was enjoying the appreciative glances and smiles several people were sending my way at the skater dress. Black, made of some weird spongy material Ella called "scuba fabric", it was form-fitting enough to make me feel good without actually exposing much skin. Win-win.

As we strolled through the gossiping clumps of our classmates on deck – Ella was searching for the bar, saying a Jack-and-coke was in order – I kept my eyes roving, intent on finding Jason. He was my main purpose for being here tonight, and I also needed to know when we'd be returning to the harbour, so I could plan my ambush.

Faces, faces… I ducked around a group of sour-looking Mag League girls, momentarily separated from Ella but quickly grabbing her shoulder in her Bardot-style top. It wasn't even nine and the boat was already crammed, dammit.

We were directly beneath the speakers on the deck above, so I almost didn't hear when the whoops sounded. Turning, I saw Ashley and Courtney climbing aboard, sending flirtatious winks and wiggles, and almost immediately setting those around them dancing. Within seconds, a good 80% of the males aboard had materialised around them and were trying to get in close on the impromptu dance floor. I rolled my eyes. Boys were so shallow. And Ashley was another target for tonight.

But for now – still no white-blonde head. Where _was _the man of the party?

"I'm going to go up a deck," I shouted in Ella's ear. The formless thumping was already grating on my nerves. "Text me if you find Jason."

She half-turned to nod at me. I made my break for the steep stairs, smoothing my borrowed dress down at the back as I climbed the narrow case so nobody got an eyeful. Emerged onto the upper deck, eyes roving. It was a bit less crowded up here, giving a girl room to breathe, something I appreciated.

I wove between clumps of classmates, snagging a Red Bull from an abandoned 12-pack while reciting my three-point argument in my head. Paused to chug. Unsurprisingly, I immediately started buzzing.

_Plan change. I'm too wired to do anything but come straight out with it._

"Tory!" I whipped around, swiping an arm across my mouth guiltily. But it was, at last, the suspect I'd been searching for. My eyes widened then narrowed as Jason edged towards me, taking hold of my upper arm and grinning lazily.

He smelled of beer and my own impending bad decisions. _Bring it._

My resolve hardened and I snatched my arm away.

When Jason's lazy expression didn't change at the snub, I realised just how drunk he was. If I'd left the issue lie, he'd have been hard-pressed to remember this.

"You enjoying the party, babe?" His words were lazily formed, loose versions of sober speech. "Here, c'm'over here." He grabbed slightly lower down my arm and pulled me the remaining yards to the upper deck's bow. I couldn't escape from his vicelike grip this time, but when we cleared the crowd Jason let go to lean back on the railings lazily.

I pursed my lips tightly and rubbed my arm while he raised an eyebrow. "So? You enjoying it?"

"What? Oh. Well. It's a nice boat," I hedged.

"Too right. Sanlorenzo, thirty-eight metres of award-winning sea-beast."

"Yeah, well, when are we leaving the marina?" _Bring in the focus, Tory._

Jason waved a hand easily. "Nah, we're not untying. Too much hassle, there's a whole group of ex-teammates coming over from CU later, they don't know when… But it's good to see you, Tor! Bring it in. Come on."

He held out an arm, motioning me in warmly, but I had never felt more repulsed by my friend. A drunk, insensitive jock right now. How had I let him get me in this position in the first place? I had truly been a doormat for him to walk right over, and I'd let him, because he was _nice_.

_God._ What a fool.

My circulation spiked, the thrumming tension indicating a flare was straining to snap free. I took a deep breath to steady myself, slapping away Jason's waving hand.

_Right. Do this. Come on._

"Jason," I began sharply, "I do not appreciate the fact that you have told everyone we are dating. Because we are _not _going out, and we never have, and I do not want to date you."

"Aw, bring it in, Tor." Jason lurched a little more upright and pulled me into him. I shoved his chest hard, properly glaring up at him now. He was still smiling goofily.

"Jason! Listen to me. You are going to tell everyone right now that we have broken up." I grabbed his chin to stop his looking out over the party. Injected my words with a little more venom. "If you don't do this nicely, then I will tell the world that we never were together and that you made the whole thing up to impress mommy. Got it? Say we broke up tonight, and we can stay friends. I can put this behind me if you do that. You got that?" Nothing. "Jason?"

"Yeah, okay, you want me to lie to everyone. Why, Tory?"

"Because I am absolutely uninterested in dating you!" I was beginning to see red. "And it's not lying! You're the one who lied, and I don't like liars!" Well, that in itself was a fib, seeing as I regularly lied to cover our Viral asses. But I didn't enjoy it.

Jason heaved a sigh. "_Fine. _We're not going out any more. Happy? I'm not."

"Well I am very angry at you right now." Seeing as he was acting like a child, I would treat him like one. I was only a whisper away from flaring, and pulled a wolfish snarl to stop him pawing at my hair.

Perhaps too wolfish. Jason began to look genuinely sorry through his pathetic state. "I apologise, babe. I just really love you. And I want the world to know."

I froze.

_Crap. Crap crap crap._

First time a boy said those words to me, and it had to be drunk Jason? _Blargh_. Males suck.

I needed to get out of here ASAP.

New destination: manipulation central. "Well I'm really upset that you've done all this lying about me. We can't speak again until you've done something for me." I turned away, feigning haughtiness with my nose stuck in the air.

As anticipated, Jason seized my wrist and tugged me back towards him. "Wait, what? What? I'll do anything for you, babe. Let me sort it. I want to be dating you."

"I'll speak to you again when you get Madison Dunkle to leave me alone. Got that?"

I narrowed my eyes at Jason, but he stuck out his bottom lip in a pout and seized my waist, pulling me right up and trying to nuzzle my neck. I craned the other way, trying to pull away, but his grip was remarkably strong.

"Tory, hun!" I looked up, still scowling, in time to see Ashley Bodford teetering over us with her iPhone and sly face. It was horrendous timing and she knew it. Courtney was right behind, leading three near-slobbering boys with her.

_And they called _me_ the rhymes-with-more_. "How's the lovebirds? You treating her right, Jase? Kiss for the camera!"

Jason, happily nodding along to the words spewing from her mouth, eagerly tugged me right in. I managed to turn my head at the last second so he only sloppily got a half-cheek kiss, but this final violation was too much.

My flare was swift and brutal, arriving in under two seconds. A new PB.

Incidentally, that is the perfect amount of time to pull back a right arm and curl fists into the correct punching shape.

My brain measured the angles, distance and power as I let fly.

* * *

**A/N: helloooo fantastic readers! A couple of things to say. Firstly, "Catalyst" is the THIRD MOST REVIEWED VIRALS FANFICTION! And 15****th**** most followed, 19****th**** most favourited. I cannot thank you guys enough for such a show of love; I was an absolute mess on twitter when I realised, because I am so incredibly honoured that our baby fandom likes me! I love you all so much, thank you for all the support. **

**Secondly, I read "Shock". Super cute beginning, and I really liked it! Definitely a fitting start to Tory meeting the boys, and it shows how a lot of our fanfictions imagining the first meeting haven't even been that wrong haha. BUT you could tell it was written after the first four books. Just from an English Lit student's perspective, there was quite a strong vein of cultural materialism coming through, in terms of Tory's noticing Ben's attractiveness. The Reichses had obviously tried to compensate for how the characters have evolved, and tried to un-evolve them, but it just felt like some sort of pre-"Code" limbo in terms of character. Still super super cute though and I loooved it, still probs my fave Virals e-short (we'll have to see about "Spike" when it comes out!)**

**Thirdly, "Terminal" has ****_just_**** come out in the UK so I can read it over Easter!**

**Oh! And hope the Led Zeppelin reference wasn't confusing. Seriously banking on readers knowing "Stairway to Heaven" lyrics here. **

**In conclusion, you're all incredible and I love you and I hope you liked the update. NEXT TIME: maybe I don't forget about Cooper for once, ill-timed Instagram, and that other (even more tense) boy argument I was totes trying to include this chapter**


	29. 3 - 6

**26.**

_Yank._

I turned furiously, ready to smash right through the grip on my arm holding me back. But Ashley was laughing. And in that snippy _ha-ha-ha!_, fragments of rationality took root in my mind again. Not much – but enough.

_What the hell are you doing with lit eyes and flare-punches?!_

I stuttered enough for her to force my arm back down. Dropped my lids and fumbled in the snakeskin clutch for my Ray-Bans with my left hand. In some corner of my brain, the mantra "the boys are going to kill me" was doing the conga.

_Oh frick oh frick get it together NOW_

"Ashley, scram." It wasn't much short of a full snarl.

I swung to Jason. His eyebrows were raised in surprise, face pulled back a little, at my near-punch. But his left arm was still around my back. "Jason, get off of me. And don't come near me till you've kept your end of the bargain. I swear I will punch your nose so hard it –" I bit off my final words. Finished the sentence in my head: _splinters and pierces your brain_.

Definitely too bloodthirsty. Jason was a long-time friend who had angered me this evening. What was wrong with me? Fear threaded through me, but I ignored it.

I turned away from him, covering my face for a moment so that Ashley and Courtney's band of buffoons – still encircling us, but a few feet away now – couldn't take even more pics. It felt like there was a thin fever through my mind, pushing the wolf through. I needed to heal back up before I tackled Ashley and made a (no doubt) spectacular exit.

I tried to wash my mind, imagining gold cleansing me. Not much seemed to happen. Clenching my fists, I concentrated harder on removing the mental obstacles. Soon realised I was accidentally probably transmitting my mind to the boys, and rinsed the gold out with an internal sigh. Wolfish mind it was. Better hope it was the internal attacker trying to provoke me, rather than a permanent new fixture.

Right. One last obstacle.

I turned forwards, shoving past Jason's outstretched arm. I had nothing left to say to him. Marched up to Ashley, who deliberately ignored me until I shoved my chin right up close to her ear. Her stinking perfume was almost overwhelming my olfactory receptors, sweat and alcohol coating all other scents too effectively for me to get much of a read on her emotions so quickly.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't spread any more lies about me." A demand, not request. "Or spread any of my private life across the student body. Jason and I are nobody's concern but our own."

She had her eyes narrowed, judging snakelike, but I held the stare. Ignored the two lacrosse players behind currently having a stand-off over who got to claim the Ashley. A wraith in a pretty skin; naturally she was worshipped, would win any school-wide scrap.

"Jason and you? Are you laying claim to him?" She purred at last.

"Not at all," I mock-assured her, "just reminding you that our _relationship_ doesn't involve you, or anyone else." Even before I finished the last word, Ashley lost the game; her eyes darted to Jason, and my mind made the leap.

_She wants Jason for herself. That's why she's been so buddy-buddy recently but turned the rumours against me and… _

"Oh wow." The words were out my mouth before she could step in to respond to my words. "You actually want Jason for yourself?" The witch's face screwed up, but I was already walking away, shoulder-bashing her, harsh parting words spilling out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Good luck. He's my dirty laundry now."

"Oh, but Tory," her silken words followed me, "you really think this is still about who used to kiss who? Well… no wonder they call you the _freak_."

I stopped. _A knife to the back_. Twisted. _That is it._ Focused on her smirking face and my clawed fingers. _Let's hunt._

My mind was humming, shimmering, in the moment as I shifted my weight back, ready to spring. The sensation of raw metal slicing through my skin felt so vivid I wasn't entirely sure I'd imagined it. I was so mad that even the boys appearing in my head unexpectedly couldn't throw me off.

_Tory! Don't do it! _Shelton's bawl as good as echoed through my extrasensitive ears.

_Don't you dare, Victoria. When we reveal our superpowers to take them down, it'll be as an Avengers squad, _Hi told me. His panicked tone belied the joking words. He could feel my explosive anger sizzling through my body as clearly-cut as I did.

No words from Ben. Maybe he wasn't connected.

_What's up with your mind?_ Shelton asked. Distraction team. _It's all… red. _

_C'mon, Tor. Brains over brawn. _Hi accessed the next sense, my vision. _Those lacrosse dudes could still take you. _

My vision shifted to Jason's massive teammates. Considered it.

_Ben would be super PO'd at you,_ Shelton added.

That did it. The ice trickled in enough to get me pulling myself up slightly, jutting my chin in the air rather than my nails. How many times had I been spitting mad at Ben for pulling this masculine rage shit on us? I couldn't lose control of myself here without having to return to him and grovel after all the tellings-off.

_One last focus. Keep it together. _"At least I've got freak friends. You've just got backstabbing enemies. Oh!" I put a finger to my chin in fake remembrance. My long pause before response had weakened any comebacks; I needed to pull out the stops and run. "And I do believe that only _one_ of the two of us has dated the captain of the lacrosse team. But, you know. Keep working on those insults, skank. With enough practice, they might actually start hurting."

I swivelled and pushed my way through the new crowd to the stairwell. Was forced to practically push people off the unfortunately crammed stairs. Ashley had been shouting more shit my way, and was definitely dressing me down to our classmates now, but I didn't care. I needed to get out out out.

I whipped out my phone and texted Ella about my emergency exit as I simultaneously mind-messaged the boys.

_Hiram, Shelton! Does Tom's ferry run this late?_

_Not usually,_ Shelton told me uneasily, _but you could always text him, right?_

_No can do,_ Hi sent, _the garage light is on. Hugo's tight for the night._

I sent a series of swear words mentally.

_My mother would soap your tongue for that,_ Hi mused.

I couldn't go back to Ella's; she wasn't replying and anyway, she had been interested in finding 'eight-pack swim-team Mike' tonight. I couldn't force her to leave because I'd scrapped with two… acquaintances, and needed to extract myself before someone caught up and tore my skin off. Or my mind fevered again and I was the one doing the tearing. There was a lot of potential for skin-tearing right now.

Swinging over the railing and down the ladder as fast as I could manage, there was exactly one option left open to me. And I liked it about as much as I liked running in mud: not at all in truth, but something to just get on with.

Hi and Shelton were muttering to each other in the back of my mind with unease, something about my bloodthirstiness. I focused on wrestling open the stupid clutch and extracting my phone.

As I hurried along the dock back towards the shining strip of overpriced marina restaurants, I went to my keypad and speed-dialled number 8. She picked up on the second ring.

"Tory, darlin'? What's the matter?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Whitney. It's just that I was with Jason and Ella but…" I sniffled for emphasis. Breathed rapidly in an attempt to oxygenate my brain, scrambled for ideas on how the hell to explain this in a way Whitney would understand. "I… I was talking with Jason and he basically _attacked _me and then Ashley Bodford started telling people horrible rumours about me and – and she called me a _freak._"

There was a gasp of shock on the other end of the line. I wrestled with my thrumming anger, the red still coating my vision weirdly. My hypersensistive ears picked up moving-around sounds as Whitney immediately gathered her things in outrage.

"Honey, that is completely terrible. Let me just finish up with the ladies, and I'll be on my way." There was a moment of muffled melodic farewells from the other end. I slowed my steps, still glancing all around me, still hunching and clutching the phone to my ear. Came to a stop outside the well-lit and non-threatening Pies 'N' Stuff.

There was the banging of a door and Whitney's voice reappeared on the end of the line. "I cannot believe a girl of such breeding would say such nasty things to you! There must be somethin' going on with that family at the moment because let me tell you I saw Mr. Bodford just two days ago outside Our Lady's and said hello nice-as-you-please but he looked right at me, right down that tiny nose of his, and point-blank ignored me before changing to the other side of the road, would you believe the rudeness of it!" Whitney let out an angry huff.

"That's terrible, Whitney. How rude of him." I screwed up my face. _Stay calm, Brennan_. "Er, where do you want me to meet you?"

"Are you near Emperor Sushi? I'm supposed to be bringing takeout for your father and I anyway, so –"

"Yeah, two blocks."

"That's wonderful! If you could place our order for numbers 87, 4 and two 61s that would be wonderful. I should be there soon after. I'm just at the car now!"

"Thank you so much, Whitney." I swallowed my awkward pride. "It means a lot."

"Not a bit of it. See you in ten, honeybug!"

"Bye."

I let out a long breath and swivelled in the direction of downtown. All that niceness had been less exhausting than expected. Maybe Kit was actually onto something with Whitney.

…_did I really just think that?_

I jumped at Hi's answer. _Oh Allelujah! The day has come! Wonders will never cease._

_Oh man, are you still here?_

_Yep. _His doughnut munching somehow transmitted too. _Would appreciate it if you'd cut the connection right about now, weirdo._

_Thanks for the support,_ I replied drily. Somehow, his using that 'freak' synonym comforted me. _Sorry, Shelton, Hi. Laters._

I gathered the golden balloon strings and snipped them but kept the flare up. Bearing a lifetime of warnings against walking alone at night in mind, I figured the extra edge could prove useful.

Plus, the sensation of being slightly in control was the only thing keeping me from going a Hulk-rage-smash spree.

Fricking shell, what was _wrong _with me? Ashley had been a heinous bitch, and it really wasn't anything new, so why the Bruce Banner urges? Jason?

I shook my shoulders, trying to physically pull it away from me. Took several deep breaths. Imagined talking to Mom. All helped incrementally, but they were the only accessible answers right now. My subconscious was telling me exactly what I wanted to do to escape the anger and calm down, but since I had access to neither Ben, _Sewee,_ or the open water right now, that was a no-go.

I was so focused on my thoughts that I almost walked right past Emperor Sushi. Was still stood in the queue when Whitney arrived ten minutes later, in a flutter of scarves and perfume. She immediately swept me up into a crushing hug (I awkwardly patted her back some). When she pulled back, holding me at arm's length, she said determinedly, "whatever you need, Tory, just tell me and I will help in any way I can."

I smiled weakly, genuinely touched by her kindness. My father's bimbo girlfriend was really trying to connect with me and help in a way I would appreciate.

"Thank you, Whitney. I'm not sure there is much to be done… I broke up with Jason for his horrible –_ ugh_ – but Ashley might have officially joined the Dunkle anti-Tory club." I shook my head, tried to smile again. We shuffled forward in the line, and my phone started vibrating madly as Whitney peered at me worriedly.

Oh dang. The exhaustion running through me couldn't take any more questions; there had been enough struggles for one evening already. I pulled out my phone and swiped open in an attempt to block out the weird new feelings towards her. _4 new messages. _

Interesting.

_You have: 4 new voicemails. _

Dang. I definitely couldn't listen to them in here. No amount of voicemails is ever good news. So I aimed for a smile at Whit, asked if I could take my calls outside. She nodded, watching me leave, pretending not to when I turned my head.

It was certainly a turn up for the books that I was in better with Whitney than Kit. I shook my head as I stepped into the street, checking both ways before I snuck out to the bin alley and dialled up for the messages.

Within seconds, I was on my knees. Panting. Screaming inside my head.

Ben's voice burned up my last ounce of patience and will, replacing the final traces of my humanity with the primal need to rip. Only snatches of Ben's sentences reached my consciousness, each more cutting and hurtful than the last.

_"…can't get over that pompous twat after all?... _

_…should've listened to my gut from the first…_

_…only snobs good enough…_

_…hope you finally get what you deserve, Brennan. Maybe being a – a ho will turn around and bite you on the ass now…"_

_"…remind me why I trusted you after the constant lies that keep coming out?"_

The end of the fourth message left me shaking and sick. What the hell did Ben think he was doing?

I couldn't help it; I pulled back my fist and punched the brick wall as hard as I could. It crumbled slightly, but the ricocheting pain up my wrist, elbow, body was more satisfying.

I couldn't let the beast take over any more. My anger couldn't be directed at inanimate objects, not any more, not when they were basically the only things I had left.

I speed-dialled Ben, but it went straight to messages. I left him a single sentence message ("You son of a bitch") and dialled his dad instead. A risky move, perhaps, but while I'd been desperate for him to help calm me before, this was a whole new level of needing him to explain what the _hell_ he thought was going on.

Tom picked up fifth ring. Good thing too; I'd been doing my calm-down breathing for the first four. "Hey there Tory. You okay?"

"You wouldn't happen to know where Ben is, would you?" My words were bitten out. It was all I could do not to scream myself hoarse.

I leant my forehead against the crumbled brick and closed my eyes through the crackly words. "He's at his – he's over on Mount Pleasant. Anything wrong?" Tom was pretty cool, but there was a hint of not-cool-ness in his voice that told me just where his suspicions lay. Oh god, he was never going to trust me again if he got to Ben before me. Our conversation this morning… well, safe to say I'd hurt Ben somehow.

"I, uh… tell him to call me if you see him before I get there. Please."

"Will do." Tom paused, and I left a gap for him to say whatever was on the tip of his tongue. But Mr Blue didn't take it, just ending with a curt, "see you around."

All I wanted to do was smash my phone, or maybe the wall some more. If only I could speak to Ben right now, I'd rip him a new –

Wait.

I delved into the bundle of knotty mental fibres. Grasped them. Ripped the mental pathways right open, hollering _BEN BLUE! _into his mind.

Maybe he wasn't making himself available before, but when the alpha decides to speak, there's no hiding.

With a single strike filled with all my desperate hurt, I tore straight into his mind, mentally screaming. _What the actual fuck. I can't believe you. After everything, you think you know what's going on? _

_Hey there Tory, nice to see you Tory, no you can't come into my mind tonight, oh wait too late never mind._ Ben's sarcasm was boiling with searing anger. _What's up? Detached yourself long enough from your fiancé long enough to deign to talk to me?_

_Jason's a twat and I've told him to go screw himself,_ I shot back, eyes stinging. _He wouldn't stop assaulting me. Oh and Ashley just ripped me a new one, so why don't you join the fucking party?_

He wasn't even unsettled by my uncharacteristic cuss. _Really? Or are you just covering your tracks the whole time? Who knows, right? Jason's your arm candy, Chance is the flame you're trying to keep alight in the corner, and I am so sick of –_

_I've just been almost thrown overboard by two massive _liars_ and you're trying to accuse me of seducing Chance?_ My hands were buried in my hair, actually shaking, the roots straining and complaining. I couldn't slam my eyelids shut hard enough. _Fuck you. I needed a good friend right now, after being attacked on a stupid yacht, and you're acting just as bad as Madison, Ashley, Jason. Even Whitney's been nicer._

_Then leave me out,_ Ben tore out, _cut me out. I don't want to be a friend. _

The angry tears had arrived; I choked. I wanted to be rational so badly, but there was just too much hurt, and the red I was seeing before was amping up emotions even more now. _Good. I don't need dicks who pretend to care then run at the slightest trouble._

Did I ever.

_Thanks for finally getting out! And check your Instagram on the way out if you care so much about your rep._

_SCREW YOU! And your Dad! _

"Tory?"

What excellent timing Whitney had. With a superhuman force of will, I wrenched through all my viral powers, shuddering as I finally powered down. Didn't want the pack getting a track on my erupting anger. Slipped off my shades, rubbing my face as the flare finally powered down.

"I'm here," I half-sobbed. Whitney opened her non-food-carrying arm and I ran into it. I walked under her half-hug for the rest of the block.

Whatever had happened to the world, I didn't know. But Ben Blue had a whole new fight coming his way.

* * *

**A/N: so I finally finished my horrendous mocks! Now just 8 weeks til my actual A2 exams… so I celebrated by writing. When I don't post updates, it's not because I don't want to 3 **

**In better news, I read 'Terminal' directly after the last update (in less than 24hrs ha) and OMG IT WAS AMAZING. 2****nd**** favourite in the series, and only just! 'Code' remains my fave. But I'm so glad that the plot, thread-tying-together, and conclusion was all so epic. Plus I totally guessed around 40-45% of the plot correctly; if you think any of the future 'Catalyst' threads are copied, they're not. Can't believe the ending though!?**

**This is a shorter update than I wanted but I was about to start the next scene and realised that two giant fights is enough drama for one chapter. **

**Also, I've been updating my 'Catalyst' playlist! It's on 8tracks, called "feeding on fever", by markofathena. It's tagged under virals and tory brennan (and you don't need an account or anything). Just FYI :)**

**NEXT TIME: Chance's unexpected reappearance, too much raw fish, and murder (am I being sarcastic? Truthful? Melodramatic? You'll have to check to find out!)**


	30. 3 - 7

**27.**

"Pass the soy sauce, Tory?" Kit wouldn't even look at me, his grump exacerbated by the adventurous takeout. I silently leaned over Coop – who was thrown over my lap, to his joy – to grab the bottle. The tension knotted my neck as I teetered between words.

There were so many things I wanted to say. I was gripping Coop's fur so tightly I wouldn't have been surprised if he turned around to frown at me. But I ended up blurting out, "thank you for taking care of me this evening, Whitney. I really, really appreciate it."

She smiled at me warmly. "Not a problem, honey!"

I took in a deep breath and turned to Kit. "Dad… I was there tonight because I wanted to talk to Jason about some lies he's been saying about me." I squirmed but pushed on with the details, needing to prove I wanted to stay close to my father. "He was drunk, and – very ungentlemanly in his conduct, so I ended up threatening him… and Ashley Bodford started a fight with me. I think she might be working with Madison Dunkle."

"That Bodford girl called Tory a _freak_," Whitney put in, clearly still affronted for my sake. I nodded weakly, patting the dog's head. Kit looked between the two of us with semi-raised eyebrows.

It took a lot to offend such an easy-going man as Christopher Howard. I had to put in a lot to get him back.

Everything but the very heart of our secret, I decided. And avoiding direct reference to Ben.

"Ashley Instagrammed a stupid picture of Jason throwing himself on me, which upset a couple of people." I squeezed my fists tight for a second, knuckles whitening on Coop's back, but pressed on before anyone could interject. It was amazing Whitney had only broken her silence once so far. "She's taken over as Queen Witch at school since Madison got spooked by me last fall."

"I thought they'd lain off since the trial?" Kit sucked soy off his thumb, fleetingly meeting my gaze.

"And what do you mean, spooked?" Whitney added.

I swallowed, fighting my terrible swelling urge to flee. _Dammit, she deserves this show of faith too. _"They have lain off… mostly. Ashley spread a stupid rumour about me this week. It's ridiculous. Whatever. She's just jealous because of Jason." Which was a tricky spot. I needed to not let Whitney know the 'dating' was a lie. Best method: push on.

"As for Maddy…" I took a deep breath, smoothing down my wolfdog's fur and casting my mind back. "Well, from the beginning… She used to lead the school, made up most of the names for me and the boys. Hated that Jason and Hannah liked me. When we got Hannah sent down for trying to kill us –"

"And Chance," Kit reminded me, then held up his hands. "Sorry. The Katherine Heaton case."

"Yeah." My surprise at his remembering must have come out too strong in my voice, because Kit shrugged a little self-consciously.

"I'm your father. First proper criminal running-in you had, of course I remember."

"Right," I said hastily. "Well, er, she hated me even more after that. Cornered me at a deb event to tell me to get out – actually, she did that a few times – but one time in front of a crowd, I turned on her and fought back for once."

Probably best not to mention that this was prompted by Chance Claybourne, who we'd broken free of his island jail and was sleeping on my bedroom floor at the time. I couldn't rightly remember if I'd included it in the original retelling and had no wish to remind Kit. I didn't need a second round of punishment for it.

"And, well, I took her down pretty well. But we met in the toilets afterwards by accident, and I really spooked her by…" _flashing flare eyes, _"…threatening her not to attack me any more. And, erm, in the fall I made her think I was reading her mind.

"So I think that's why she's got me being visited by her counsellor and her reverend last week. And she's making some of the student body think I'm an actual demon, or possessed, or whatever. And also the papers. But, _obviously,_ I'm not. So, yeah. That's what's happened with her."

I knotted my fingers together, leaning back at last, examining Whitney and Kit's faces. She looked horrified, hands both over her mouth, and he was somewhere between mildly shocked and plain grim. Cooper whined on my lap, shifting uneasily. That could have just been from the fact that my lap was, in fact, too small to fit an almost full-grown German Shepherd-wolf on.

"I don't think there's anything else…?" My discomfort manifested itself in twisting my fingers in Cooper's fur.

"That certainly, uh, sounds comprehensive." Kit ran a hand over his face. "Is there anything Madison wants? To be paid off?"

I shrugged helplessly. "All she says she wants is for me to admit I'm a demon. But, obviously, I won't."

"What if you did?" Kit suggested. I frowned.

"Wouldn't that just bring more angry Bible-bashers out of the woodwork?"

"I could speak to some of the ladies," Whitney suggested, her pretty face creased up in worry. "Tory, honey, I am so sorry that she is bringing this down on you!"

"Thanks, Whitney," I said. "And Kit. I really don't think there's much to do except just keep pushing her away until she gets bored. Keep the trouble away."

"Are you sure, kiddo?" Kit sounded troubled. I tried not to smile in relief at the return of my nickname.

I nodded eagerly. "I really, really don't want to make trouble." There was enough of that finding me these days anyway.

Kit half-smiled. "Good call. Enough of that finds you anyway, Tory."

I barked a laugh, as much for our identical thought processes as the sentiment, and made to stand up. Coop slid off my lap and scampered away, bashing Whitney's knees on the way out. "Not half. But I'm beat. Too many threats of injury for one evening. I'm just going to hit the hay if that's alright."

"Sure thing. Night, kiddo." I kissed my father and Whitney on the cheek each and traipsed out. My body and mind were thoroughly wrung out by the flare and the fights and all the explaining. I realised on the stairs, belatedly, that I'd never actually apologised for my fibbing mess.

_Ugh. _But Kit was back to using 'kiddo', so I reckoned that counted as absolution.

One less issue. But I was still leaving the day with more problems than I'd come in with.

* * *

My refreshing sleep was not to be.

For hours I tossed and turned in a chilled sweat, my mind feverishly spinning around each new problem. Solutions were frantically exploded and their threads followed to other, ever more hopeless ideas. Whipping myself into countless panics, it took a lot of talking down and yoga breathing to eventually fall into a shallow unconsciousness.

Which was promptly shattered, seemingly only minutes later, by a piercing scream.

I shot up in bed. Another scream – definitely Whitney.

I scrambled for the door. Kit was shouting now too, but as I burst into the master bedroom, another – somehow familiar – voice joined the foray.

Everything was too dark to see, so I lunged for the light switch. We were all dazzled into silence for a moment, but as I blinked away the fluorescent splodges across my vision, the situation revealed itself all too clearly.

Of all the strange turns my night had taken thus far, this topped the list by a mile.

"Tory, run! Burglar!" Whitney burst out, one arm thrown across her eyes, the other clutching the sheets to her.

"What the – " Kit let go of the burglar's arm but kept a hold of his collar.

"_Chance?"_ I was aghast. "What in God's name are you doing?"

"I –" He looked around wildly, trying to yank his collar away from my father, to no avail. "I needed to speak to you!"

"Not in the middle of the night, you don't!" Kit said furiously. "And what the heck you think you're doing actually breaking into the house, you'd better explain quick."

"I thought it was still Tory's room," Chance gasped. "And – no, my phone – all our phones – they've been tapped. Hacked." His eyes weren't leaving mine, and there was a terrible wildness I hadn't seen since the last time Chance had had occasion to be in this room. "Someone's watching me, and all my acquaintances, closely. So I had to come in person."

"So they'd watch you come here then? What's so important you had to come in the middle of the night?" Kit was edging into bewilderment. A better sign than protective rage. "Come on. Really."

Chance widened his gaze at me. I bit my lip. He was normally so verbose that it was clearly confidential, but I needed to know. I also needed to explain this away to Kit.

"Let's leave it till morning," I suggested with false lightness. "Chance can kip on the couch. I'm sure nobody wants to be doing this in the middle of the night. Kit, can I have a word?"

My father let go of Chance's collar with a threatening look sent his way, but did follow me to the other end of the corridor, where he could still keep an eye on the visitor without him eavesdropping. I heard our unexpected houseguest try to strike up conversation with Whitney and hoped, for both our sakes, he appeared at least a little unhinged.

I hated to twist events again, but I had to explain this away to Kit. "I think Chance is very stressed," I whispered. "It's the anniversary of his going into hospital and the last few days, he's been very… jittery. Keeps seeing links that don't exist." All true.

"He doesn't still blame you, does he?" Kit's eyes were darting back and forth between us, searching, uncharacteristically distrustful.

"Not at all," I amended hastily, "but he's been saying how unsafe he feels. He's very paranoid. Like, _really _paranoid. I think the Manor holds too many bad memories for him at this time. I mean, really? People watching his every move?" I shook my head. "If you just let him sleep downstairs for a few hours, I can get him out in the morning. So he doesn't come back in the middle of the night again."

Kit looked at me for a moment before nodding. "Well okay then. I trust you, Tory."

I nodded back, nerves jangling through me as Kit walked away. Those words had felt more like a reminder than anything, but how could I tell the truth? I knew Chance wasn't truly out of his wits, so turning up at my house in the middle of the night… it left me with the choking fact that something catastrophic must have happened. Now, of all times.

I darted forward as Kit escorted Chance out of his bedroom. "Wait! I'll just grab some blankets. Chance, can you – "

"I'll do it." Kit yanked open the airing cupboard and pulled out the first thing he could get his hands on. I grimaced at Chance in the dim light, tapped my wrist in a _later _signal as my father emerged and almost hurled the sheets at Chance.

"Here. I'll show you the couch. Tory, you go back to bed. No need to encourage napping in lessons by staying up even later, I've got this."

"Thanks, Dad." I smiled at him and slipped back inside my doorway. "Night, Chance," I added, making my voice a touch condescending for Kit's sake. "Don't worry, we'll talk in the morning."

"Night, Tory. And I'm terribly sorry to wake you, Doctor Howard…" Chance continued apologising as he was escorted downstairs and I got back into bed. It seemed that his natural instinct for covering vulnerability with manners was making a dazzling appearance.

I went back to bed, but damned if I was going to sleep again. I sat up against my pillows, pulled out my phone to text the boys. They needed to know what was going on.

_But_. My fingers stilled over the screen.

What had Chance said?

_"My phone – all our phones – they've been tapped. Hacked." _

Oh boy. Who – how – what did they have? Panic seized me, crystallising my mind so my plan formed superfast.

_Wait an hour. Talk to Chance. Mind-message the boys in the morning, including Ben but not directly addressing him. _I was beyond pissed at him. Let him come grovelling before I apologised for being 'attacked' by Jason. _Ignore Jason, ignore Ashley – or take her down if you have to. Text Ella about the party, but only tell her about Chance in person. And paint him as paranoid again._

That reminded me – had Chance ever found those dogs? The Viral ones? I shook my head. It had been several weeks since that had been our biggest problem, but now I seriously wished to have it back. Mom had always quoted Regina Brett when I grumbled about having it hard: " 'If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.' We'll make it through, honey."

Then we'd sit down and talk over solutions and she'd make me laugh until the problems seemed like nothing at all. Those memories still filled me with joy and sadness and endless frustration – because really, what use was it dwelling on the past? All things said and done, maybe I preferred this in some ways to having Ben's horrible rocky parental split.

Didn't matter anyway. I heaved a quiet sigh and tried to distract myself with my chem revision textbook in the light from my phone.

I managed it for 43 minutes. Then I couldn't wait any longer. I hadn't heard anything from the master bedroom, and even Whitney was normally asleep by now.

If anyone caught me, I would just say that I'd heard Chance moving around.

More lying. That sounded perfect.

Stealthily I pushed back the sheets and stood in the middle of my floor, straining with every fibre of my being to hear any noises.

Nothing. I crept forward, pulling the door with winces at every squeak, until it was wide enough to slip through. Every step in the dark silence of the house seemed to echo like a rock in a well, and I had to travel at a snail's pace to prevent waking Whitney.

Eventually, I made it down the level to the living room, pushing open the door gently. The dimly-moonlit room made it hard to pinpoint our houseguest's location for a moment. My adjusted eyes found him sitting on the couch, slightly slumped, with the blankets folded neatly beside him.

The sight stopped me in my tracks. I'd imagined Chance Claybourne slouching, sprawling amusedly across my sofa with his habitual smirk. Not stiffly sitting, ready to spring at any moment. Terror seized me, but at the same time, part of me wondered if maybe he _was_ paranoid and overly stressed again. It wouldn't have surprised me.

"Tory," he breathed before I could make up my mind.

I nodded and cut across the room to sit beside him, the other side of the piled blankets. Idly, I considered just how surreal this whole situation was. What if he…?

"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go," Chance whispered carefully, but frantic, "and I needed to tell you and warn you and – the police can't go until we've had our own investigation but they need to know as soon as possible – "

"Know what?" I demanded in a whisper.

Chance took a deep breath and took my hands from my lap before looking back up at me. This just sent my nerves into overdrive and I stopped breathing. "It's Susan. The tapes… the attackers disabled all the block's CCTV and… we've got until late tomorrow morning, since I wasn't supposed to go back this evening at all but… she's been murdered."

* * *

**A/N: ~le gasp~ YEP, NOT EXAGGERATING WITH THAT HINT. I want to hear all your theories!**

**Plus, you're welcome for the early update ;) I gave myself 36 hours off from revision after mocks and got an extra chunk done so have an early present! **

**We are officially the longest Virals fanfiction on here! Can I get a hell yeah! Also, only 4 reviews behind the 2nd-most-reviewed Virals fanfic (and like 90 from being 1st most reviewed so I probs won't set my sights that high but WOO THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE). I'm all overcome with emotion for being such a long and wonderful project that has made it this far eep! Seems mental. Not as mental as the events of "Catalyst", but still.**

**You're seriously going to love the rollercoaster of action and pain that is the rest of Part Three. (Which I just realised I totally forgot to announce back at chapter 3.1, "Attacked", and have accordingly rectified.)**

**NEXT TIME: out-of-body scouting, the South American indigenous peoples, and Chance has some 'fessions to make**


	31. 3 - 8

**28\. **

Chance had arranged to catch me sometime during the day. I knew we needed to go over everything we collectively knew, pool together our knowledge for real now we knew that Chance definitely wasn't trying to sabotage us, the other Virals pack on the block.

Ben didn't actually agree with me on that, but I was stolidly ignoring him. Hi and Shelton hadn't been privy to our mental argument, but were still unfortunate enough to receive vague emotional transmission from it. They were both extremely uncomfortable. I judged that the murder in our midst was, however, enough of a distraction.

As was the news of the hacking. Shelton approached me at my locker before English, tugging wildly on his earlobe. "Tor, I took my phone to pieces during second period. Can't find a thing."

"That's really good," I offered. "Maybe Chance was wrong about that. We don't know anything from him yet on why all these things have happened. Hence why I'm meeting him. You in?"

Shelton grimaced. "Tory, you don't have to believe this, but just… think about how weird it is that Chance has decided _now _to tell us he's got a hacked phone and he's had a member of his staff murdered."

"He found her poisoned outside the lab," I said, appalled he was taking Ben's side. "And Chance is on our side! He came straight to me! If you'd seen him…" I shook my head, slamming my locker door with a lot more force than was necessary.

"I don't mean this badly," Shelton tried, "but Chance _might _have been acting. He knows you believe him the most out of all of us."

"Can we at least hear him out first?" I set off at a punishing pace, ducking between the clumps of classmates with shoulders hunched. Most were too busy gossiping about the upcoming Spring Fling to pay me much attention, but the few in the inner rumour circle paused to dart dirty glares my way.

"Sure," Shelton said, struggling several feet behind. "But how about once the police have already had their look? And when our attendance isn't being tracked by Dino-Paugh so he can give us the chop ASAP?"

"Fine, don't come in person," I snapped. "Doesn't matter. You can still get the blow-by-blow."

"Aw c'mon, don't be like – "

I slammed down at my desk and didn't look at him all lesson.

* * *

My pervading sense of irritation at my peers didn't abate. When Chance texted me five minutes before the end of fifth period, I didn't hesitate to walk straight out of the school gates.

He was lounging against the iron railings in a subtly shiny navy suit, but when I was facing him up close, the façade cracked. Bloodshot eyes, bleeding thumbskin; he almost could have passed for the unstable boy I knew nine months ago, except for the lack of feral instability. Fear and panic, yes. But none of the roving eyes, twitching fingers and relentless mood swings. _Yet._

"Let's make this quick," was my greeting, but without bite.

Chance shrugged gracelessly. I fell into step as he turned away, leading us to an overpriced boulangerie two minutes down the block. We were both too tense for idle chit-chat; I concentrated my efforts on mentally connecting to the boys while walking. It took a couple of tries – probably not helped by their reluctance to gain my built-in CNN – but I had a solid lock on them by the time we sat down at a window table.

Chance didn't so much as glance at the menu, reeling off an order in rapid French while I hurriedly scanned the drinks board and decided not to throw away money on quadruple-priced coffee.

My foot tapped madly of its own accord. As soon as the waitress left, I leant across the table and fixed my gaze on Chance's. "What have you got about Susan?"

Chance played with his tie distractedly, his eyes focused on the middle distance. "Azad and I went early this morning. Took a blood sample for analysis and walked it over to another lab where we ran it through a gas chromatography mass spectrometer. Candela specialises in pharmaceutical substances, so it was easy enough to get the tech rats to interpret the results of the separated blood substances for us."

"And?" Chance's strangely robotic repetition of the process was going too slowly for me. It took everything I had not to squeeze my skin off my hands in frustration.

"I told them we were investigating a poisoned primate from LIRI." I nodded in appreciation of the good cover story. "They came back a couple of hours later with the probable poison. I don't suppose you've heard of the plant curare?"

I shook my head. "Keep talking and it might jog a memory, though."

"Well, it was – is – the arrow poison of choice for Central and South American natives. Pretty fast-acting, all someone needed was to inject a shot into…" Chance gritted his teeth, knuckles white on his pants leg. His dark expression morphed to an easy smile as the waitress delivered his coffee with a flirty smirk, and my table water with a scowl.

As soon as her back was turned he produced his phone, looking up the notes. "Curare contains two alkaloids: curine and curarine. Curine paralyses the muscle fibres of the heart, curarine paralyses the motor neurone endings in voluntary muscles. Competitively, but reversibly, inhibits the nACh receptor, which is a type of acetylcholine receptor."

I hated to ask, but was forced to raise my eyebrows. Chance caught my question with a small smug smile, but made no comment. "Acetylcholine is the neurotransmitter for neuromuscular junctions. So curare will weaken the skeletal muscles and cause death by asphyxiation, due to diaphragm paralysis."

Yikes. That sounded like a horrendous death. "Could you find an injection site?" I hissed.

Chance paused. "Well… we had to call the police. Couldn't leave any more DNA on her. Anyway, they'll find one if there is one."

"Won't the police investigate _you?_"

Peering over at me, Chance seemed to finally cotton onto my near-hysteria, unknowing of its basis. "Well, I should hope not. Candela sends the Chief rich rewards every year for the officers doing their duty so well. And Jason's father certainly shouldn't cast any shade on the Claybournes if he wants to protect his reputation." He narrowed his eyes, hands finally stilling from the fiddling. "What's this about, Victoria?"

"We keep being attacked. Internally and externally." I glanced around, leaning in closer, speaking quieter. "Alright. We were almost grabbed several times. Most recently, when we were scouting Madison's, there was someone in her house already. Someone…" I didn't want to mention Hi's scent on the bag over Ben's head that almost-kidnapping at the store, "almost made off with Ben for good. And," I hesitated over my theory, "I think someone's been stealing my bathroom products. To lead us to the store, for the almost-kidnapping."

Chance glanced out of the window. Swallowed. Cleared his throat, tapped his foot. _If that's not skittish…_

I didn't need the connection both ways to know exactly what my pack were screaming at me mentally. "Chance! What's your part in this?"

He sighed. "_I _stole some of your bathroom stuff. We were practicing getting your scent and tracking it, working out if it helped make the mental connection. Which it did, a little. We ran it in some of the tests you did," he added, waving it away. "And, well, Susan wanted to observe your healing and reflexes."

"So what?" I couldn't believe this. Candela had been examining my (unopened) tampons? "Chance, what have you done?"

"We just sent a dog across the road in front of Blue's car." Chance dropped his voice as customers turned to glare. "No big deal. After the fair, you remember."

"That was _deliberate?_" I lunged for Chance's tie, and gripping its knot, enunciated carefully: "If you have had any other part in our lives that you're not telling me about right now, I swear, I will personally _shred _you."

"Got it, Brennan. But no. There's definitely at least one person after you. Or us. Maybe the same person as Susan's murderer."

I slowly let go and sat back down. The blackness coming over Chance's face was almost palpable. "No clue. Can't see how it'd be _un_related, though."

Chance snorted. "Sounds about as likely as my father leaving jail tomorrow and congratulating me on the work I've done."

I frowned at the flippancy, turning Hollis Claybourne over in my mind. But… nope. No obvious suspicious link there.

"So you've been stealing from my bathroom and almost killed us all in the car. Anything else? Or is that finally everything we need to know?"

My biting sarcasm glanced off Chance. He had returned to the crazed shuffling. "Everything as far as I know. I'll try to meet up with you again soon with the police report. It's just not safe to use our phones for confidential info any more."

I tried to think. "Won't that raise suspicions?"

"Maybe we've fallen out." Chance shrugged twice rapidly. "I'm not going to give away any more to our hacker than I already have to."

We fell silent. I was struggling to piece together anything in my mind – or, really, gain a sense of rational control. The world seemed hell-bent on screwing me over this week.

Neurones finally fired. "Hey, do you know what Susan was working on? They might have – _you know_ – because she was about to discover them. Or something." Not knowing the nature of our attackers was already a massive hindrance.

Chance frowned. "The last entered project notes are just conjecture. She thought that your separation of mind from body could be when you were feeling threatened, a natural reaction of trying to scout the area for threats. That was entered at about half past three."

"A scout of the area?" My eyebrows lifted and for a few seconds I was blown away by all the potential there. _The threats… _But – "Wait." I squeezed my eyelids shut for a second. "Half three. Then why was she in the lab so late?" I gripped my glass. "You said you weren't even supposed to go back so late. So what was she doing there? What were you?"

Chance said nothing. I narrowed my eyes. "I don't think those ideas are the last thing she wrote about. Our attackers are clearly expert hackers – they deleted a clean hour of CCTV and are tracking our phones without us knowing. They could easily wipe a few lines of text from the file and its backups."

Chance averted his eyes, focused on our feet. "Backups," he muttered. "We kept backups of everything. They couldn't have deleted every last one."

"If they can track our phones without us being able to find a single bug, yeah, they can probably find some ghost files," I snapped. But something was tickling the back of my mind. My pack weren't feeding thoughts directly into my head – I had closed them off too well for that – but an uneasy sense of distrust was filtering through.

And not just because of what Chance had revealed about Candela's activities… I backtracked the conversation and found the snag. "Chance. When did you find Susan? What were you doing at Candela that late?"

He furrowed his brow, but at that moment the waitress swung by, handing me more unwanted tap water without so much as a glance, but a beam to check on the suddenly suave Claybourne heir. I waited til he was quite done before fixing Chance with a hard stare.

His eyes darted away and around in response. "I… another project. I mean, looking over files again. What had already been found."

"Well, which is it?" _Lies, all lies._

Chance spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. A futile one. "Using the data we've already got to predict a future project idea. It'll further our understanding."

"Understanding of _what?_" It was a bullshit line. I slammed a hand over the coffee cup he was trying to raise. "Do _not_ mess with me. You know what's at stake here."

"Yes, I do." Chance's eyes sparked with the mad glint of one whose beliefs have overtaken rationale. "And that's precisely why I've undertaken this particular project, Victoria. And it's why I can't tell you now, not until we start getting results, because this is bigger than us. It's bigger than any vendetta you might have, and it's certainly more important than one scientist."

I was torn between screaming and smashing, but I went for gaping instead. "Are you telling me you're running secret tests that you refuse to let us know about… with _our_ DNA… and it was worth Susan dying for?" Disbelief echoed with every word.

"Yes." Chance sipped rapidly from his steaming drink. "You will know soon, I promise that. But for now – just for now, Tory – please, _play it safe. _We're all being followed, I don't know who, I don't know how, I just don't –" He glanced over each shoulder rapidly, twice per side. Leant in close to me. "Don't come back to Candela. Don't look at confidential info on your phones. You'll get everything in time. I'll contact you."

He stood up abruptly, dislodging the jacket of the customer behind. I lunged for a suit sleeve and grabbed a fistful just in time. "Chance, let us go through Susan's things –"

"It's too dangerous for us to even meet again, let alone go through her things." Chance yanked my fingers from his suit, hightailed for the exit. I dashed after him, almost turning over tables in my hurry to keep up. The door smacked someone in the shoulder but I ignored them all in the struggle to intercept our last hope.

"Chance Claybourne, you can _not_ use us for projects we haven't given consent for!" I managed to run in front of him, but he pushed past as we struggled up the crowded sidewalk. "Just talk to me – "

"And what will you do, go to the police? To court?" Chance paused long enough to send me an eye-wateringly pitying glance. I was left speechless. "Go home, Victoria."

I just stood and watched as his navy figure melted into the crowd and disappeared.

There was nothing else I could do.

* * *

_Chance, what have you done?_

It echoed round my head as I trudged back to school. I was in time for seventh period, which I successfully sat through without taking in a single byte of info. In fact, the swirling vortex of what-to-do ensconced me all the way through end of class, the walk to the dock, and the ride home.

Hi and Shelton tried to discuss the afternoon's events with me, but I couldn't get my head in the game. The devastating news had, apparently, shattered my cognitive reasoning. _This particular project … I can't tell you now … it's certainly more important than one scientist..._

No, I couldn't get my head around it. Hi and Shelton seemed to have given up trying to get anything out of me by the time we were aboard _Hugo_. I was glad they saved it: I was going to get a rollicking for wrongly trusting Chance with our DNA and discoveries as soon as we all recovered, but I couldn't deal with it right now.

It was just so crazy. Hacking files I could understand – we had done it ourselves, although admittedly, it was files on _us._ Even attacking with a look to kidnapping, it had happened before. But murder, a successful murder? The stakes had become too high.

And Chance had gone to the police. He had involved them in our work.

It was the right thing. The Zodiac killer had nothing on these high-level murderers.

But it brought new dangers. I just had to hope Chance had protected us well enough that we couldn't be found by anyone searching files for clues. How well would a data analyst understand DNA sequences? Would specialists be called in? What would they know, what would they find out?

The bump of the boat on Morris jetty was surprise enough to pull me out of my thoughts. As we clambered out, Hi and Shelton made noises about going to the bunker. I had no desire to join them, reading Shelton's simmering rage and Hi's terrified disappointment all too easily. They told me they were waiting until we could all meet with Ben for us to discuss; Skype was clearly no longer an option. I mentally noted my stay of execution and turned without a wave.

I needed some sort of distraction. Maybe a work-shaped one. I had definitely missed some sort of assignment in World History today. Texted to ask Ella if she'd been given it in her earlier class. Got a negative response, accompanied by questions on why I'd missed sixth. She followed a second later with another plan to take down Ashley Bodford, something that made me smile for the first time since lunch, when I'd relayed the boat party's events to her.

**TB: had to meet Chance. 1 of his friends has died + it's sent him even more paranoid**

**EF: !? how?**

**EF: hawt damn didn't think that was poss #sadtimes**

**TB: poison… yh no kidding**

**EF: ! **

**TB: yeah**

**EF: which poison?**

**EF: r the boys mad?**

**TB: curare + yes. But haven't had it out yet**

**EF: oooh yh! I swear someone at Mag League taught me about that! Cute leaves for bouquets apparently**

**EF: damn girl :( let me know how it goes k**

**TB: ! do they grow it around here?! + will do 3**

**EF: idk. Probably. The Ladies are so very into home-grown flowers. I'll do some research 4 u.**

**TB: thanks!**

I was smiling as I let myself in. Ella I could count on.

Even as I thought it, my favourite furball knocked me straight back out the doorway with enthusiastic woofs. Ella and Coop… yep, they'd stay on my side until I could make things right with the rest of the pack. _Whenever that is._

"Come on, boy! Do you want to go for a run?" Happy yaps greeted that suggestion, so I dashed upstairs for my kit before I could overthink it. I needed an hour (or ten) of zone-out, head-clearing time before I faced the consequences of our experiment.

* * *

**A/N: HEY HEY HEY I AM BACK :D Sooo great to be back with my incredible readership… I'm sooo sorry for keeping you guys hanging for 49 weeks and no amount of awesome could make up for this now… but rest assured I am back writing voraciously and the rest of Part Three is made of pure awesome. I kept having to reread my own story just to check I could fit in this storyline in line with what's up so far!**

**Part Four, however, I somehow lost my plans for and that is one of the reasons I disappeared so suddenly – since the last update, I've taken my A-levels, worked at car dealerships/jewellery places to earn uni money, and am now two terms into a Physiotherapy programme at university. It's been a bit time-consuming :P Also, I've been struggling with how much of 'Terminal' to include! So much of 'Catalyst' had semi-similar storylines….**

**Anyways, I wanted to say a major thank-you to Heslen for a) keeping on reviewing while I was on hiatus, and b) an especially well-timed review just as I came on Easter holidays. In my last kinda break before uni exams, it was really excellently-timed. Also to everyone who reviewed my last few chapters because I kept on checking back to remind myself to do it ahha.**

**Lots of love to you all!**

**Next time: suspensions, fatal footballing, and unconsciousness (yep, there really is drama all round)**


	32. 3 - 9

**29.**

"So Tory," Kit began over our pepper and mustard seed steaks, "do you want to tell us what that was all about with Mr. Claybourne last night?

I shovelled a mouthful of rocket and meat in to give me a moment to consider how to answer. Present the facts without the true meaning behind them. "Hm… I met with him today and he told me his friend helping with the project has died. It's made him extra paranoid."

"_Extra _paranoid?" Kit didn't put down his knife and fork, but he did pause his eating. Impact noted. "Tory, I really don't think if it's safe for you to be hanging out with him. I know you can vouch, but he has attacked you in the past. And you didn't play a small part in this paranoia."

"We have also been friends in the less distant past," I reminded him. Brushed over the latter worries because I had no answer. "But I, er, don't think it'll be a problem any more, anyways. Chance thinks it's too dangerous for us to meet up, whatever that means."

"Well I can't say I'm sorry he won't pop up here in the middle of the night again…" Kit resumed chewing, and I relaxed my shoulders. Jumped when my father suddenly poked his knife in my direction, his face all suspicion. "And what, exactly, did he mean last night about your bedroom changing location?"

I hastily glanced at Whitney, who had stayed uncharacteristically quiet through this exchange. "Whit, is there any work the Mag League does with, er, troubled people? Anything I can get involved in? Actually, what _is _coming up for the League?"

I caught Kit shaking his head in my peripheral vision, but he seemed pleased enough at my taking an interest in his girlfriend that he didn't push the matter.

Whitney, however, seemed very subdued. "I'm not entirely sure, sweet pea. I can ask."

I frowned at the unspecific answer. "Ask about..?"

Kit frowned at me. "Hey. Don't."

"Is everything okay?" I looked between them quickly. The temperature of the room seemed to have plummeted twenty degrees in ten seconds. "Kit?"

"It's fine." He mangled a smile for me, which I didn't buy for a second. My heart lurched. "You know, did I tell you about the new turtle breeding programme?"

It was an obvious topic change, reminiscent of my own thirty seconds before, but I took it anyway. Whatever was up, I needed to give them time – even if only a day.

And yeah, selfishly, I didn't want another aspect of my world to crumble around my ears today. Because a tug in my gut was telling me nothing good was going on behind their muffled arguments and weird silences. Nothing good ever came of such signals.

X

I met Hi and Shelton the next morning without enthusiasm. From the look of all our bloodshot eyes and general fatigue – worse than what can be expected of the usual overworked high school student – we'd all slept poorly under the threat of loose murderers. Not so unexpected.

We pretty much fell onto the benches, in the customary semi-circle. I began without preamble.

"Any ideas on when we'll meet up to have it out?" I gave no specifics (murder, for example) for the sake of Mr. Blue's keen hearing, but it probably didn't take more than a few brain cells to decipher the flavour of the issue.

Shelton and Hi exchanged glances. Hi was the first to look away, but didn't answer immediately. I clenched my jaw in an attempt to keep from demanding answers. The regression to pre-make-up (and pre-make-out, my brain handily reminded me) state with Ben was almost painful. I'd almost forgotten how much of an inconvenience it was, too.

"He's not exactly chomping at the bit to talk to you," Hi said eventually. I raised an eyebrow, thoughts running dark.

"And I don't want to talk to him after what he said either. But some things are bigger than stupid jealousies over non-existent relationships." I clenched my hands on the bench. "Bigger than hurt feelings over… mean words."

I realised with a jolt that I'd unknowingly echoed Chance. This did not help abate my dark mood.

"I'm sure he didn't mean it," Hi said uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. "Do you want to talk…?" I shook my head hard and he blew out a breath, looking mighty relieved. "Okay good, 'cause I really don't think I'm set up for this 'talking out your feelings' crap. I'm a fighter, not a talker."

"Yeah, your mom does all the therapy for you," Shelton put in.

"More like his mom is the reason he _needs_ therapy," I cackled.

Hi sat up straight, his face the picture of affront. "After everything we've done, you guys think _I'm_ the one that needs therapy?"

I nodded, mock-sincere. "You could always join Chance. I hear the sanatorium has a few openings."

I regretted mentioning Chance the moment the words left my mouth. The mention of him brought our brief levity crashing around our ears. Shelton looked pained, Hi uncomfortable.

"Sorry," I offered after a moment.

Hi offered a half-shrug. "Guess it's just too close to where we're at again. Unstable Claybourne, powers out of control, creepy dudes after us…"

"That's where we're _always_ at," Shelton muttered unhappily. I cut him a sideways glance.

"'Creepy dudes after us'?"

"Not always shooting at us! But we have _way_ too much history with killers coming for us."

I considered that. Nodded in acquiescence. "Plus Madison always seems to have it out for me."

Hi shot me an unimpressed look. "I hear that happens after you break into someone's head."

"Well Kit's been fine." It took me a moment to fully process what I'd said. Hi and Shelton winced. "I – er…"

"Not cool!" Shelton shook his head hard. "Just because you're getting better at it doesn't mean it's okay! _Not cool!"_

"Yeah – yeah…"

"We have _no idea_ what is going on with us now," Shelton barrelled on, "and Chance just skipped out with all our evidence. We are not going to tell anyone _anything_ any more, got it?"

I nodded, subdued in the face of his fury. Hi was watching Shelton carefully, uncharacteristically silent.

Shelton seemed to take this as encouragement, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "No more dangerous flaring. No more barging into people's heads. And definitely no breaking into people's heads!"

"But we can't even use our phones for secret stuff any more," I protested. Shelton glared.

"Then you can use them to ask us to meet up and tell us then. Out loud. Like normal people do."

I nodded, purse-lipped. It made sense.

And I had no leg to stand on.

"Emergencies only. Got it."

Shelton opened his mouth to argue that, but Hi nodded. "Full on emergencies only. Or emergency burritos."

"_Not _the burritos." Shelton fixed me with a hard stare as Tom throttled down for the upcoming jetty. "We know how you are with rules, Tory. Stick to 'em this time."

I gave a mock salute, snappier than I really felt. "Aye aye, Cap'n."

Shelton sent one last suspicious look cast my way before he turned to climb out. I clenched my fists tightly before following.

My friend spoke sense, but I felt trapped in an ever-tightening net. Our powers had (certainly partly) got us into this mess, so how on Earth would I get out of it without them?

* * *

_"Brennan."_

I snapped to, my shoulders being shaken by someone. "What? What?"

Ella was standing in front of me, amused smile on her face. "You back with me?"

"Yeah – what? Did I miss something?"

"I was just asking about Jason! You totally zoned out." She laughed at the expression on my face, bent down to wedge on her boots and unpick the knot of laces there. "How's it been today?"

Jason was back at school today after a 'doctor's appointment' post-boat-party yesterday. Safe to say I hadn't even looked at his face, I was so mad. Whatever I saw there was only going to make me angrier, and I didn't know if I had enough of a check on my emotions yet.

I pulled a face, reaching back to redo my ponytail tighter and higher. "Not so good. I've been avoiding all day."

Ella raised an eyebrow and swapped feet. "You do know that's just gonna blow up in your face if you leave it, right?"

"Yeah." I frowned, spiking under a nail with my bobby pin by accident. "Do you think he even remembers?"

My friend shook her head. "I really couldn't say. Don't think I've seen Jase anywhere near that drunk before. He was getting on for blackout."

The memory swept over me, triggering a shocking flash of rage. Everything was as red as the night on the boat, making me hunger for revenge, redemption. _Stop it! _I froze before carefully uncurling my fingers from fists, one by one. _Breathe, Tory. _

"He was an absolute pig," I told Ella, refusing to look her in the eyes. "And you're right. We need to have it out, or he'll just build it up even more. And so will the rumour mill."

Plus he'd forget about everything I needed from him: the relationship rumours laid to rest, the stupid instagram picture deleted. I was due a peaceful existence, rather than the lie-filled one he'd contributed to. And damn it, I was desperate to escape the net being woven around me.

Ella stood up straight and nodded slowly. "Tomorrow. You could take him off straight after English."

"Plan."

Ella smiled before yelling for the team to assemble. The pleasant level of chatter didn't abate as everyone slammed kit into lockers and ambled towards the doors. Trekking obediently after her, we had to squint towards Coach's dark figure in the sudden sunshine.

Or at least, _I _did. Wouldn't have been a problem with my quick-to-adjust wolf eyes. The squinting kept me focusing on something other than the whispering girls to my right, fighting to get away. To get away from… me, I realised.

Violet wasn't even among them, but they had clearly been listening to her, and to Madison. Maybe even to their Reverend on Sundays. A week ago, it would have bothered me. Now, I couldn't be bothered. At least, I wasn't going to fight this, or them; it disturbed me, but it wasn't a fight I could win with a confrontation of these impressionable, fickle girls. There were simply too many, and fearing me was simply another teen girl fad.

_A dangerous one,_ a voice in the back of my head argued, its tone all too familiar. I pushed it away. Classmate hate was hardly a new phenomenon, for me or for anyone.

I tried to push the problem to the back of my mind – onto the ever-higher pile of rubbish that made me upset – and listen to Coach's explanation of what we were doing today, what we were targeting. But it didn't really work when we were assembling into relay teams and two of the five in my line refused to stand near me.

But whatever, but whatever. _Ignore them, Brennan._ I wouldn't let these bitches ruin soccer for me, on top of everything else.

Distraction came in an unexpected form after the fourth set of 'suicides'. I was more out-of-shape than I was happy to admit, but the sight of the DinoPaugh striding towards our team was enough to send me sprinting to the cone. I had a funny hunch – or rather, a reasonable estimation given the last two weeks – that he'd come for me.

Unfortunately, my spurt of athletic brilliance didn't delay him one jot. He roared "Brennan!" as loudly as those crusty old lungs could manage, which was a pretty respectable volume.

I avoided eye contact with everyone on my jog past, although Ella would surely be frowning after me. Paugh had called me a way aways from the girls, as if I needed any other indication that I was about to receive more bad news.

_Shit a brick. Can I not catch a break?_

Paugh apparently read my thoughts in my face as I stopped in front of him, because his angry little face deepened its niggling wrinkles even further.

I wasn't even required to perform the usual greetings dance: Paugh cut straight to the point before I could so much as address him. "Brennan, you're suspended. Get out now."

I was speechless. Stood for several long seconds just gaping after him, a sick dread rolling through my body and saturating my senses. Paugh looked me up and down before turning his back and striding off. Only the sight of his crisp-suited back jolted my mental engine into some sort of emergency backup mode.

"Sir – sir – "

In some sort of horrible déjà vu, I remembered having to run after another money-spinning, power-wielding oligarch just twenty-four hours before. _These men in suits will be the death of me…_ or at least, they were doing their best.

Just like with Chance, I had to round in front of my headmaster before he would acknowledge me. "Sir, how long for?"

"Indefinitely." Paugh tried to push past me, but I side-stepped like a pro. Ella hadn't got us running grapevines for months for nothing.

"When can I come back?"

"Don't you know the definition of 'indefinite', Brennan?"

"Why am I suspended? Isn't there anything I can do to reverse this?" I was panting, but at least the headmaster – unlike Chance – wasn't quite nimble enough to dash around me and continue at a punishing pace.

Paugh finally turned his head and stared (glared) me in the eye. "Because despite a final warning just days ago, you missed further lessons yesterday. This standard is irresponsible, and does not uphold the Bolton Academy requirements of attendance. The governing board will have a meeting to evaluate your overall contribution to the school in order to decide whether you will be permanently excluded. As for _doing_ anything, don't you think you've done enough, Brennan?"

I did _not _appreciate the dropping of my polite title of 'Miss' through this whole conversation, but I appreciated the horrible dictation even less. My frenzied brain somehow noted Ella trying to near us. "But sir, my conduct is surely –"

"Your conduct is atrocious," Paugh cut me off. "Now leave the school grounds, or I will be forced to summon security to remove you."

"I'm leaving," I said stiffly. Only the emergency control brain system currently operating prevented me from spitting at my (temporarily ex-) headmaster. I had just enough mastery over my temper to turn on my heel and stiffly walk away.

I couldn't restrain myself enough to keep walking; I sprinted back to the changing rooms. But apparently, I couldn't outrun my enemies any longer.

* * *

Stripped off. _Breathe. _Shoved my clothes on haphazardly, uncaring of buttons or scruff. _Breathe._ Forced my soccer kit into my bag. _Big breath. _Swung it over my shoulder. Shouldered open the door, into the corridor.

My mind was icy; my body was set to autopilot as I trekked back across the school towards the side gate. Thoughts churned below the surface, but I couldn't separate them. It was too much.

It was too much, and all I could think was _what am I going to do? _

_What am I going to do? _I'd talked over this scenario with Ben just on Monday, but that had been before everything blew up in my face… or did I?

I frowned, trying to remember where we'd been, what had been said. But my mind slipped, thoughts evading grasp. As though I'd lost my footing on a mental pathway.

Okay, that was weird. I stopped walking altogether, trying to access my memories, force them to appear. But the churn of thoughts seemed to heat, create a buzzing in my head even as I attempted to regain logical control. A buzzing, burning, heat – as the seconds ticked by and I tried to unlock my own friggin' mind, the fever spread through my whole body like wildfire, a poison through my nervous system.

But I knew better. Even as I recognised that my mind was being tampered with, someone outside breaking in and taking over, my body started shaking, my mind burning up.

I turned over my left hand – or tried to. It was slow and blocky in movement. _When did I hurt my left hand in childhood? _– I tried to recall any information about it, but even as the question came, another arose. _Did I hurt my left hand? _

I had officially lost rational control of my head, my body soon following. There was only one option left, my standard refuge: running, while I still could.

I ran on pure, blind instinct. Conscious decision-making was no longer an option. My own head was part of a trap, closing in on me while I was alone and without backup. Never had I been in a trap where I was left without my friends – not that my memory could tell me anyway right now, but my instincts were screaming it was so – and certainly never without my own wits to go on. My mind, the thing I had always prided myself on most, was held hostage.

_Flare. Flare!_

The corridor tiles raced by as I tried to find that mental barrier to push through. Where was it? Where was the push, the band to snap?

I tore down the front steps, so blind to my surroundings that I couldn't see who saw me. So blind, I couldn't see anyone until they stepped right into my path and seized hold of me with arms like iron.

I gasped, prepared to scream, but a large hand clamped over my mouth. To my horror, as my eyes finally focused, it was the Reverend Stanley. He was frowning, heavy brows drawn together in displeasure. "Please, don't hurt yourself, Victoria. We're just going to help you."

I couldn't consciously access my memories, but I knew that this was _not _the kind of help that I needed. Not one jot. I tried to bite the hand, wriggled hard, kicked back, trying to drop down out of the iron fists that squeezed my upper arms.

Didn't get past them even slightly. The Reverend wouldn't take his hand off my mouth, but gestured for me to be brought out of the gates. There were a few other people outside, and I trying to make enough noise to grab their attention – but they just muttered to the Reverend. They were with him, and I had no friends here.

And then I spotted the car.

The fear finally snapped something, the something I couldn't access consciously, and with only half a second's worth of excruciating fire, I had flared.

A well-aimed wrench out and down loosened the mysterious strong grip. I had just enough time to register the caramel hair before I skittered away as fast as possible, gasping for air. The followers tried to grab at me, about five hands snagging on my blazer at once: I slithered out of the jacket, smacking my bag into as many faces as I could, and finally, broke free.

I tried to run once more, but ended up haphazardly careening down the street. Other pedestrians had to move out of my way; it might have been an unstable run, but I was flaring, so still going pretty strong and fast. Shouts and screams from behind – part of an overwhelming churn of sensory overload – told my feral mind that I was being chased, attacked, and they were keeping up all too well.

_Get to safety!_ But where? I couldn't make any of these images mash in my brain, could elicit no meaning. I didn't know this place. I didn't know it.

An arm in my path. I tried to shove it out the way, but it was just a kindly builder keeping me from running into the road. I was at an intersection.

The stranger frowned at me, turning his head. "Y'alright there?"

_Change, lights! _I nodded frantically, twisting my head over each shoulder. They were coming. They were coming, and I could now see they had placards. Reverend Stanley led the horde, but right by his side was Madison Dunkle, her face mutated by divine fury, thrusting into the air a wooden sign that read: _Drive out the Devil!_

They were close enough that I could hear the screams, watch Madison's mouth form the words "Look at her eyes! The Devil shines through them!"

They were almost on me. I would have to make the choice to run into cars, or be recaptured. My heart hammered a hummingbird rhythm, body shifting into a fighting stance. _5…4…3…_

The lights changed, just as a shadow fell over my head. I made for the crossing, but something heavy and wooden smashed across my head, knocking me straight to the tarmac.

_They're raising it to do that again. Get up._

I pushed up, staggered as fast as I could across the road, bent double so I wouldn't fall over from the dizziness. The world was churning, but someone had slowed the hoard – momentarily, but it was enough.

A thread – a thread in my head. I didn't know how, but suddenly another voice kicked in – not even instructions, but they lit up the path ahead for me. I jogged faster, coming more upright as I was shown to dodge left here, cross the residential road here, continue to the main road here.

My head felt lighter and lighter, the beating sun only adding to my dizziness. I could still hear some screams, but they sounded somewhat fainter.

And then –

I only registered the uneven paving stone as my body went head over heels, a flurry of heat and confusion. And _pain._ Ringing pain.

I tried to push up, but my arms buckled. Tried again, just as I heard a dismayed sound above me.

The next thing I took in was a very blurry face cupping my chin. A familiar face – but who was she?

From the other presence in my head, a seal of approval, of gratitude, telling me it was safe. But could I trust it?

"Oh, sweetie. Let's get you out of here."

I had no choice. In a painful sweep of blackness, unconsciousness overtook my mind at last.

* * *

**A/N: hey lovely readers! I want to thank you because from all your wonderful reviews (which seriously make me sooo much quicker to write, it's amazing) 'Catalyst' is the SECOND MOST REVIEWED VIRALS FANFIC! (We're 80 off being the most-reviewed but hey, maybe by the time it finishes…?!)**

**I am so so excited about this – not just the longest Virals fanfic (a milestone passed 10K or so words back, I mentioned it at the time) but 2****nd****-most-reviewed is insanely great! Absolutely couldn't have done it without you, because YOU are the reviewing machines that keep me going and keep 'Catalyst' going too. So please, let me know your theories and feelings about my baby?**

**I have had SO MUCH FUN writing this chapter because it was one of the key scenes from the start. Please tell me your thoughts and reactions! I love hearing them all so much!**

**NEXT TIME: sofa confession time!**


	33. 3 - 10

**30.**

The smell of burnt toast and faint cinnamon brought me slowly back to my body. I sniffed twice, my bruised mind taking long moments to filter and process the sensory impulses assaulting it. A second more and – ow.

A throbbing through my body finally reached consciousness. I screwed up my eyelids. It was emanating particularly from my elbows and knees, about three points on my skull, and throughout my mind. Ouch.

Time to turn to more pressing matters.

First: was I still flaring? Not normally a question I'd have to ask myself, but the sensory information I was receiving seemed bewilderingly in-between the "normal" and "overdrive" levels I operated on. My mind seemed bruised, but healing without sign of the other Virals' presence.

If that was still undecided… where was I?

Eyes still closed, pulling the blanket over me tighter, I shifted position and concentrated on my location clues.

I was laid out on a couch, under a blanket, a cushion under my head. Cooking noises sounded from what was presumably a kitchen, with the door left open. That would put me in a lounge. But whose? It wasn't a familiar couch, and I'd slept on enough of them to know.

And yet… there was a very familiar scent around tickling my nose.

This should logically have prompted me to jump up and escape, since the list of people who would just love me in their custody right now was not a particularly short or friendly one. Yet instinctively, I knew I was safe here.

Safe. I had no right to feel that way – or certainly no reason.

Emitting a sigh I couldn't keep in, I turned over and relaxed into the couch. Someone left the kitchen and came into the room. I cracked an eyelid as exhaustion swept over me.

Before darkness swept over me, I registered an older, harsher version of Ben putting out a hand to stroke my forehead.

* * *

I jolted awake for a second time when someone sat on my feet. Sat straight up, eyes open immediately this time, a thrum of adrenal emergency energy shooting straight through my exhausted body.

I twisted my head all around until I spotted the culprit and could relax back against the cream leather sofa once more. Croaked out, "way to scare me, Blue."

He just frowned at me. "Way to scare us, Brennan."

Right. So he'd deliberately woken me to find out why I'd invaded his space. It was an accident! I tried to yell with my face, since my voicebox apparently wasn't one hundred per cent again yet.

I pushed myself up a little more as he glared back. Snapped my gaze away as another person entered. But it was just Myra Blue, Ben's mom. Her standard closed-off expression – which I remembered from our handful of previous meetings – was firmly in place, the hard lines of her super tan body warding me off.

My eyes widened as a few of the jagged puzzle pieces fell together. "Myra… you saved me. Thank you."

She paused a few feet from the sofa-cum-bed, unsurely grasping her hands. Nodded once, lips pursed, eyes darting between Ben and I. "It – it was nothing. We're just lucky you were so near where I pick up the patients' prescriptions."

'Lucky'. I frowned, my face pulling painfully over a lump at the top of my forehead. I distinctly remembered a thread I had followed right to her.

Later. "I… what happened?"

"Isn't that something you need to answer?"

Myra's eyes shot directly to her son with a glare. "Benjamin! She has just woken up from an ill-advised, potentially concussed sleep. At least offer Tory some food before you grill her."

Resentment simmered in Ben's expression at the swift reprimand. He crossed his arms as he turned to me. "Wanna eat?"

"No, I'm – I'd better not. But thanks." My stomach was roiling too much right now for food. Not helped by the cold, formal way we were communicating. It completely belied the casual way he was still collapsed over my lower legs, and the angry words we had last spoken to each other.

It was the sort of situation that made me want to scream what the hell happened to us? But my head was too sore to even mentally scream, and physically we were too comfortable, and I knew the answer if I reached for it: stubbornness and distrust.

Distrust. My own answer surprised me.

Why did I not fully trust Ben? Did he not trust me?

Questions for a time when Myra wasn't staring at me as though she could see through to my bones. She and Ben were both examining me, their eyebrows scrunching. I was surprised to realise Ben wasn't giving off a sense of impatience. Maybe he had seen enough through my eyes. Or maybe I couldn't read him like I used to. Or maybe he didn't care.

You're being ridiculous.

I caught his eye accidentally, my knotting fingers stilling on the blanket as he held my gaze. He didn't make an obvious move, but at last I got a read on his mind: he wanted to know, but didn't want to push me. Unbidden, reversed images of me lying on the beach, out-of-body, flashed through my brain.

Is that why he doesn't trust me?

If so, I didn't trust my body either.

But I needed to focus. "I…" Shook my head. My memory was a scary whirl of scattered images right now. I supposed I had my attacker to thank for that.

"Where did it start?" Myra asked, sitting down on a pouffe against the wall.

I felt Ben tense up against my leg slightly. Remembered Myra probably didn't know squat about our shady history, other than the times we'd been in police custody – those were the only times I recalled meeting her, actually. I was fairly certain I'd never seen her step foot on Morris.

"Soccer practice," I said slowly. Tried to reel back. "We were running drills. But Paugh… I'm suspended. I'm suspended from Bolton indefinitely." Ben paled slightly, and it was enough for the message to truly sink in somewhat. "Oh shit I'm suspended from school."

"What happened after that?" Myra prompted gently.

"I – I was getting changed and just leaving but…" I flicked my eyes to Ben for a moment before moving back to Myra, knowing he'd have picked up on the message, "I was grabbed by the Reverend outside the school. He and Madison and some of the others tried to grab me and stick me in this car for my exorcism."

Myra's eyes were panicked, but she was well-practiced at outwardly projecting calm. "Did they chase you? Is that why you were running?"

I nodded, head pounding. "They struck me at the traffic lights, but I got away. And ran into you… fortunately."

I didn't dare make eye contact with Ben. I could now recall the thread in my fevered mind, his guiding me to safety. Indirectly, back to him.

My heart pounded, and I didn't know why.

"Thank you so, so much for getting me to safety," I told Myra. "I don't know what would have happened without you. Nothing good, for sure."

She nodded, gave me a small smile. "Happy to help." Rose from the pouffe and caught her son's eye. "I'll make food later, but I have to run back to work for a couple hours."

Ben nodded once, a jerk of the chin, causing his mom to scowl slightly in remonstration. "I'll stay with Tory."

Myra grabbed her jacket and coat, hustling out of the porch with her characteristic touch of frostiness. Ben kept his eyes on where she'd left until I reached forward – taking a lot more effort than I'd hoped – and grasped his hands, my words spilling out as I could hold them no longer. "Ohmygod thank you Ben – you saved my life. You saved my life."

He wouldn't look up at me, just stayed fixed on our hands. I shifted, catching a whiff of discomfort from him. Pushed on nevertheless. "I know I owe you a lot, but I double-owe you this time. I can't believe you could get through despite what the bastard was doing to my head – "

"Who?" Ben's voice had a funny twist to it. I was taken aback.

"Well, I – "

"I saw what you saw," Ben said, finally raising his head a fraction. "All red, and it felt all crazy. You weren't in control." He finally met my gaze. "Who can break into your head like this?"

"I don't know." I was taken aback. "We haven't worked it out yet."

"You just said a bastard was screwing with your mind, so you must know."

"But I don't!"

"Not consciously." He sounded like me. "But part of you knows if you can pin them down." Ben was the one trying to fix my gaze now.

"It was probably just a slip of the tongue," I muttered. If I couldn't even work it out when my neural circuitry was operating with all guns blazing, how could I do it when my thoughts were scrambled egg?

Ben opened his mouth, eyes hard, but slowly shut it again and leaned back. I leased a low breath. Realised how far forward I'd leant and did the same. Watched my packmate tug off his cap and run a hand through his hair, flickers of expressions shadowing across his face.

There were so many things I wanted to say after our last encounter, opening sentences shooting through my mind as fast as I could register them: why do you still think I like Chance?

I despise Jason for what he's done, and all that he stands for.

What did you do after you got suspended from Bolton?

Will you beat up Jason for me? (Ben would be far too obliging with that particular request, I was sure.)

The one that blurted out before I could think twice was, "I don't trust me either."

I hadn't seen Ben that still for a long time. Time seemed to hang in the balance, seconds dragging for as long as they could to give us a chance. Each breath in that moment felt like a gross resistance.

We didn't know where to go from that. There was no right way. Maybe there was no wrong way, either.

"I keep doing things I don't want to do. I mean – I know everyone has to do things they don't want to do but…" I screwed up my face, "someone is controlling me. All of us, through me. And I should have stopped them by now."

Ben still didn't say anything. I was glad of the invitation to just ramble, maybe finally understanding a bit of myself and where I was at.

"I don't know how to win, where to go from here." Shaky breath, catching. "It feels like there's too many people against us this time." Swallowed. My throat hurt. "We have no more cards left to play… I am really, really scared, Ben."

The truth. My eyes pricked, so I buried my face in my hands before he could see.

"Hey…" Ben swallowed audibly. But then his fingers were gently pulling my hands away, and he was giving me a half-smile. "We have cards. We have cards because you're scared."

I shook my head, fresh sob breaking free. "That's not how it works, I, I have someone breaking in to my head, and we have someone who smells of Hi trying to kidnap us, and Chance won't see me, and Paugh won't let me back in to school, and Jason won't beat himself up – just because I'm scared."

I cast around for a box of tissues. Ben got up and grabbed some from the other room for me. I took the opportunity to try and pull myself together. Completely failed, sniffling wildly as he dropped the box in my lap, then plonked back on the sofa, all the while wearing that adorable and unwarranted half-smile.

"Since when has the great Tory Brennan been beaten by a bunch of jackasses refusing to tell her what she needs to know?"

"Since I got suspended," I muttered, but Ben was right in a way: this problem hadn't begun today.

"Nah. If you're scared, it means you're prepared to do stuff you wouldn't have done otherwise, right? And since you're suspended…" Ben grinned at me now, "that just gives you the time to do the threatening."

I tried to smile back. It crumbled. "I can try threatening Chance. I don't know how to threaten a whole cult."

"So just threaten Madison, or mind-control her." I admired how quickly Ben threw aside our new Virals-laying-low rules. "She's at the heart of it."

"What, and get my head broken into as thanks again? Yeah, not happening."

Ben stilled. I squinted at him, blowing my nose. Raised an eyebrow in question.

"You get your head broken into when Madison's around?"

"Well, I – " I stopped short. Mentally tallied the instances. Starting with Mag League in the church however many weeks ago… "Not always broken into. But always messed with… yeah. Yeah."

"Madison is breaking into your head?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Yeah."

"Tory, you worked it out!" Ben's grin lit up the room. I managed a watery smile. My gut was silent, so I had to trust my head on this one. "When do we take that witch down?"

"As soon as I'm un-grounded?"

"But you're not grounded."

"Not yet. When Kit finds out I'm suspended, though…"

"…You do not lie because you're practicing telling the truth. And he'll appreciate it." Ben hesitated, then gestured towards himself. "Come on. Bring it in, burrito dog."

I was taken aback for a moment. Ben generally appreciated physical affection about as much as Whisper, Coop's wolf mom, did.

Only for a moment, though. Didn't want him to change his mind. I turned around and scooted back til my back was on chest. We were both breathing a bit quickly, muscles tense at the sudden intimacy. The obvious pressure of Ben's legs against mine had stolen my sentences. His too, from our mutual silence.

We had probably been in more physically compromising positions before, but I couldn't remember them right now. Certainly not when we were totally consciously aware of each other in this way. Or rather, not when I was. I couldn't speak for Ben's long-held candle for me.

I soon relaxed enough to lean my head back on his shoulder, smiling at the slight tickle of his hair on my cheek. "Any reason you went for this form of comforting physical affection?"

Ben breathed carefully through his nose. "My mom used to do it with me as a kid."

"Really?" I must have sounded too surprised because Ben's body immediately tensed a little. I hurried to justify: "She just doesn't seem the cuddly type."

"I guess not any more. But she said she used to like it."

It had always felt like I was the one without a mother. It had never really occurred to me that Myra might be the most absent of all our parents. She wasn't so absent that I'd never met her, or disliked her particularly. Yet my mom, Kit, Tom, the Stolowitzkis, and Devers all knew a lot about my daily routines, likes, dislikes; had me over for dinner; even helped me after dangerous scenarios.

Although Myra was, thanks to Ben, now part of that last grouping.

I sighed. Felt, more than saw, the questioning look. Knew I couldn't avoid the topic any more.

"I hated not having you at my back the last few days," I confessed to the opposite arm of the sofa. "But I hated what you said to me. I needed you, and…"

It was Ben's turn to breathe uncomfortably. "I'm sorry for what I said. Yelled. I don't know what happened. And… I really hated it too. I was almost glad when you needed me today." A sharp intake of breath. "That probably makes me a dick. I just wanted an excuse for us to meet in the middle, put the weird stuff aside – I didn't want bad shit to happen to you – "

"I know what you meant," I told him softly. We were wrapping ourselves in webs of words, tangling and tripping over each other. So get to the heart of it. I took a breath, my ribcage rising against Ben's arms. "I trust you, except in that you don't trust me. Which is that same bit of me that doesn't trust myself."

His breath was warm against the side of my neck. Hot, almost. "I trust you."

I swallowed, eyelids dropping a little, turning my head towards Ben. "Then swear you'll stay with me. Mentally, at least. Keep us safe from me."

His lips brushed against the crease of my jaw meeting neck when he murmured, "I promise."

That was all it took for me to finally tear through my paper-thin self-control: within a breath, I turned to kiss Ben, his own face flushed and pupils blown wide. Eyelids fluttered shut, the world narrowing to Ben and the magnet inside me that always seemed to pull me back to him. All the words we kept tripping on finally fell away, sealed at last by our promise.

Our kiss started longing and only increased in intensity. When I broke away to twist my legs, swinging them over the side of the sofa so we were at right-angles, Ben started planting soft, hot kisses down my neck.

When he sucked slightly, my breath caught. He sucked harder in response, adding a prod of teeth into my skin. My hands climbed up his chest and neck to tangle in his hair, then tug at the roots. Ben sort of growled; our lips met again in a heartbeat, ferocity amping up so teeth bashed, tongues clashed, lips ending up every which way.

Ben did some tongue move which had me melting, pliable for him to smooth a hand down my back, down my side. When he almost got too low on my back I bit down on his lip, earning a sharp breath in.

Long, long moments were lost in heated kisses, hands trailing across backs, until I gradually realised my head was throbbing and I'd reached the end of my comfort zone, so pulled away some. Not happily. Ben's face hovering over mine as we'd ended up lying on the couch was a sight I could oh-so-easily get used to.

Although preferably not his worried face. "You okay?"

It was all I could do to nod vigorously.

A smirk curled across Ben's face. "You'd better call your Dad soon."

My groan was accompanied by the sound of his hitting the floor when I shoved him onto the carpet.

* * *

**A/N: 33rd chapter uploaded is gooo! Yes, it was Myra all along – this was one of the first scenes I ever had for Catalyst, shaping its formation. Although I wasn't expecting for Tory to get so damn real O.o Anyway, hope you enjoyed such a healthy dose of ToryxBen (got a looot hotter than I expected haha, it was supposed to just be fluffy, but you know these two; once they get alone they run away with themselves, it's insane)… let me know below?! (Reviews speed up my writing time by about three times y'know)**

**Big thanks to Amian-OTP for PMing me – it really kicked my newly-finished-1st-year-uni arse into gear! More on the way soon guys. Even though I'm starting to confuse even myself with all the threads of this story…**

**I am Camp NaNo-ing either for 'Catalyst' or an original novel – probably a bit of both – so fingers crossed the muse arrives and gives this novel wings in the next few weeks :)**

**_Next time:_ Ella Francis, FBI agent; Kit reacts; and an unexpected interview**

**PS: was looking up Ben's birthday on Virals wikia (to no avail), but apparently "nothing spectacular has happened between [Tory and Ben]" since the kiss when she made him leave. The amount of making out/almost kissing I have written them as having is definitely straying out of canon territory haha, but the series could have put in a feeeew more kisses! I'm just making up for lost scenes…**


	34. 3 - 11

**31.**

I had really put my father through the mill tonight. First, the necessary worry when he received a call saying his daughter had been attacked and narrowly escaped; then suspicion when it was only Ben and I when he arrived; the weariness that a trip to the police station always evinced; and then a _lot_ of anger when I broke the news in the car about Bolton.

"You fucking _what?"_

We swerved quite badly towards the side of the road before Kit yanked the wheel back up. The light traffic of 11pm was fortunate. But I couldn't recall him ever losing his cool so badly he used the F-word in front of me. "I wanted to tell you as soon as possible – "

"Why?" he demanded.

"Paugh said it was because I was terrorising the other students and making Bolton look bad… so, the Madison thing… and 'cause I'd missed class a couple times."

"I am trusting that you were doing your best on this demon possessing thing, seeing as you refused my help." Kit was gripping the wheel so tight his circulation looked cut off in the street lights' glow. "And I am gonna have to intervene with that now because it has gone _way_ too far. But why the hell were you skipping class? I know exactly what 'a couple times' means in Tory language."

I could no longer peddle my old favourite, 'the court case'. "Research," I mumbled.

"On what?"

"With Candela… about Coop."

"You were skipping school to use a pharmaceutical giant's equipment to experiment on your pet dog? What the hell, Tory?" Kit shot the tenth furious look at me. "What was wrong with just going after school? I thought you liked class."

"I'm still the biggest nerd around," I tried. "But… stuff just kept coming up."

"'Stuff'. That sounds important." I didn't much like sarcastic Kit. "Did you get a warning? If you didn't get one they can't suspend you."

"Yeah," I muttered.

Kit's death glare hit me with full force as we stopped abruptly at an intersection. "And you ignored it? You know this stuff goes on college transcripts, right?"

I could only nod.

Kit shook his head once more, putting his foot down harder than really necessary. Visibly shook himself. "Okay. I'll shuffle around some meetings tomorrow and come in to talk to – Paugh, isn't it?"

"Naw, Kit, you really don't need to – "

"Yes I do," he said, a tinge of fury to his voice. "That education is the best damn education you will ever get access to, even if all the other kids are brats and the teachers are prejudiced. And if you're expelled it'll ruin your chances of Ivy League, which you should damn well be thinking about. You should be getting detentions for skipping class, not this."

We sat in silence for a few moments, wrapped in the stillness that late-night driving brings. Kit's face twitched as he undoubtedly planned the next day. He was probably exercising a lot of willpower to not verbally run me through, too. I wanted to shout at myself enough.

"Thanks, Kit," I mumbled to the dark car as we sped through Folly Beach. "I'm sorry I brought this on you."

"S'okay," he said gruffly. "And hey. It's only half deliberate, right? Trouble just seems to find you. Not that you discourage it," he added. I snorted; couldn't deny that. "We'll just do our best to sort this mess out. If you could please – for once – manage to stay out of trouble, lay low for like two weeks, it would certainly help."

"I will absolutely not go seeking trouble," I promised, a pang of regret for the loose plans Ben and I had come up with. At least the grounding I'd expected hadn't occurred. And it just gave us planning time, ensuring it was done in as cold blood as possible.

Kit nodded in approval from the driver's seat, the last Folly streetlamp lighting up his bare knuckles. I frowned as a wisp of – not mystery, maybe intrigue, caught at the edges of my understanding. Kit and Whitney were fighting… but why?

I decided now was not the time to further irritate my father. He had (probably narrowly) overlooked the grounding thus far and I didn't want to bring a ruling about.

But I also decided to talk to Whitney in the near future. My mental fustigation – _yeah, voluntarily communicate with the Barbie!_ – however, was rather half-hearted. Maybe I was too tired to put the poison in.

Or maybe, somewhere along the line, I had started to care for Whitney more than I intended to.

The thought made me smile. It wasn't such a bad thing, having people on your team. Even if we disagreed on little things, Whitney had come through for me several times in just the last ten days.

"I fed the dog," Kit mentioned. "Before I left."

My smile turned into a full-on beam. "Thank you! I kinda forgot to text about it seeing as I was unconscious."

"Yeah, I know." Kit sounded like he was rolling his eyes as we pulled up outside the townhouse.

* * *

I was awoken the next morning by a scrabbling at my door. My wolfpup, acting as an alarm. Coop then proceeded to start whining. I blearily checked my phone; half seven. No wonder he was checking in on me. Although from the battered feeling of my exhausted body, it was as if I'd not yet slept.

I half-heartedly tried to use the Force on the door. Probed mentally to see if I could just will it open, before realising the many levels on which that was a poor plan. Contemplated never moving from the bed again, until Cooper started body-slamming the door. That dragged me out from under the sheet soon enough, cracking the door.

A furry beast shot through, headed straight for my bed. I shut the door again with a sigh and plodded back to flop down on my mattress. Coop enthusiastically clambered over me, licking at my face; circled for a few turns until lying by my face and panting happily.

"Good to know one of us is pleased with the situation," I mumbled.

We stayed like that for a long while. Coop dropped his head down onto his paws after a few minutes, his eyes closing soon after. The reassuring breaths from his furry body helped calm the wolf part of me, which was pacing anxiously until now. I dropped into a doze until being woken again, this time in a far less pleasant manner: my ringtone.

"Tory ohmygod what has _happened?"_ Ella. Must be break, for those still definitely enrolled at Bolton. "Everyone is talking about Madison and Reverend Stanley and a whole bunch of bastards trying to freaking kidnap you and you ran away but then you kidnapped Madison for revenge and why aren't you here? Oh, and why the frick frack did you just disappear from practice last night? I need deets, stat!"

I groaned into the phone and rolled over, sending a surprised wolfdog skittering across the bed. "Morning, Francis."

_"Details, _Brennan!"

I sighed. "It's bad."

She left a dramatic gap for me to continue. I could perfectly visualise her raised eyebrows and 'so? Go on' head tilt.

"Okay, so…" I screwed up my eyes. "Paugh told me I am suspended because I'm supposedly terrorising Madison, and because I've been cutting class. And he wouldn't listen to me, so Kit is having an emergency meeting today… or he said he would. Huh." Had he phoned the school? If I knew Paugh, he wasn't about to meet Kit unless it was at gunpoint.

"Get on with it," Ella prompted.

"Right. So I was getting changed, but started getting a creepy feeling, so I hauled ass. But I get outside and Reverend Stanley full on grabbed me, or his cronies did – I kinda escaped once, but then Madison had me, and I had to let them have it before I could get away.

"I pegged it, but they all followed, and someone got me with a placard at the intersection. But I got away. Passed out on the pavement just as Ben's mom came by."

Ella swore. "That's hella lucky. What happened after that? Did you grab him and go beat up the bitch?"

"No, I…" I closed my eyes. "Ben and I made up. Then Kit came to collect me, and he took me to the police station. They won't do anything, though. Stanley's a Reverend, cleanest slate anyone could find, whereas mine is…"

"Not so clean," Ella finished for me. "And don't think we won't be discussing this 'making up' later. I know you, Tory Brennan." I blushed, glad she couldn't see my face. "But we have to get to the bottom of this. Are you telling me you had nothing to do with Madison Dunkle last night?"

"Absolutely none. I swear!" I half-laughed at her obvious distrust, but stopped dead when a lightning bolt hit me out of nowhere:

_'Our phones are tapped. Don't give anything away.'_

Had I given away information? Was this tapper-Candela murderer really in league with Madison Dunkle, my mind-attacker? – Madison Dunkle, girlfriend of Chance Claybourne?

I seriously needed to have a conversation with Chance. This hadn't just gone too far, it had run a marathon through the land of way too far and was about to sprint off the cliff of furthest.

Webs of words, wrapping us all into ever-tighter bundles, tripping us one by one. What was at the centre? Why couldn't I see who was weaving the net, who was catalysing this breakdown?

_"…Brennan."_

"Sorry! I – Coop needed me." He pricked his ears from the end of the bed but didn't betray me. "And why are you so desperate to know if I avenged myself on Madison last night? I'd have loved to, but I'm definitely not that stupid."

"Mm-hm." I couldn't reasonably object to her doubtful tone. Hi had let me know often enough just how 'impulsive' erred on 'dangerous' when I was organising plans. "But… you seriously didn't know?"

"No. Ella, what's happened?" I pushed myself up into a sitting position, making eye contact with Cooper for support. This was serious.

"Madison's gone," she said hopelessly. "Not at school this morning, and Courtney's spread that nobody knows where she is – she disappeared last night, last seen chasing you with her little satanic gang. Anti-satanic, whatever. She's still the spawn of the devil."

"And naturally, the rumour mill has decided that her pet demon has finally sacrificed her." I screwed up my eyes. "Shit a brick."

"You're telling me." The sound of hallways filled the background as Ella headed back to class. "Look, I've gotta go in a sec, but I'll work on the gang, work our contacts, try and get to the bottom of this from my end. You work _your_ contacts, yeah?"

"Got ya," I mumbled, not bothering to explain that I didn't, in fact, have any contacts I could sweet-talk. Certainly no useful ones. "Talk to you later."

"Yeah, talk soon." With that, Ella disconnected. I dropped my phone on the floor and buried my face in Cooper's side.

What now?

Lay low, indeed. Complicated just got even more complex.

* * *

And what the hell did Ella mean, 'work _your_ contacts'?

I couldn't get back to sleeping all day with this news running round my head. I had eventually shot a text to the Virals about Madison, figuring that if my phone was being watched, they'd already heard everything Ella and I had said. Not that I was happy with the phone-tap situation. But Shelton had reached the end of his expertise, and goodness knew the rest of us struggled to even find our charging portals.

She had placed enough emphasis on it that I knew she had to be hinting. Who did Ella believe I could talk to that could possibly have any info on Madison?

Well… Chance. As I'd realised before, he was intrinsically tangled in this mess. But Ella also knew about how he had abandoned the technology ship in favour of hermitage.

And who else on the popular crowd would be willing to talk to me, give me info about one of their (ex-)members? I really hoped Ella wasn't suggesting I get on the blower to Ashley Bodford. We'd known all along that she was being fake in that two weeks' worth of sweetness, although it had taken me long enough to work out it was because she wanted to get to –

_Ah._

_Damn you, Francis_. But she was right.

Still, this didn't warrant my trekking over to the mainland. I would just have to plan this phone call very carefully beforehand; there were so many things I wanted to scream, and none of them were going to get me anywhere.

At least, not if I screamed them. But I did need leverage.

Forty minutes later, and I was staring at my notebook: a focus sheet of points to stick to, ways to explain so I came across as hurt but mature, and not spitting fire. Tried to summon Whitney's composure, and hit the phone button by _Jason Taylor._

A little late, I checked my watch. But he was on earlier lunch, so should be just about okay…

It went to voicemail. I growled at the phone before trying again. I was just giving up on speaking to him this time when on the seventh ring, he picked up.

"Tory? It's good to hear from you. I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't want to annoy you, so I left it."

"Hey Jason," I said, attempting to muster a touch of coldness. "I appreciate you leaving me be. But I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, I – I really wanted to say how sorry I am." Jason sounded like he was getting up and walking to a quieter location than the cafeteria, which I appreciated. "I don't really remember what happened –"

"You insisted on trying to kiss me. You wouldn't let me go, and told me…" it was too cruel to go straight into 'you loved me', "some things you didn't mean."

"Oh my God, I am so sorry. This is terrible, I've never been that trashed before – had a hangover for days if it makes you feel any better." He paused slightly, waiting for a reaction. I didn't give him one, even though I felt bad for Jason by now: my work wasn't done. "Is there anything I could do which would go towards you forgiving me some day?"

"Tell everyone I broke up with you after that," I told him icily, wincing after. That wasn't the most important request. "But I have a favour to ask which would vilify you."

"Vili-what? But – yeah, of course, Tory. Anything. I have been such a major jerk to you, so name it." Jason sounded way too eager. How, after everything? I closed my eyes against the image of his desperate puppy-dog face.

We had put him through so much – or rather, _I_ had. But I had also made it abundantly clear that I didn't care for him in a boyfriend way. And I was facing expulsion if the popular narrative about me didn't change soon.

"Madison and her Reverend and some of their cronies have been attacking me for weeks." I took a breath. "But yesterday they tried to kidnap me. I got away," I said over his spluttering, "but Madison has now disappeared. I think they're trying to frame me for kidnap of _her."_ I took a deep breath and battled on through Jason's outraged muttering. "Can you find out where she is and convince people it's not me? Otherwise I'm going to get kicked out of Bolton."

"Yes, of course! Why will you – "

"Thanks. Phone me if you get any updates."

"I will. Tory – "

"Bye." I disconnected. Sat with my eyes shut for a good minute.

I didn't want to face Jason, but I had managed it anyway. Pat on the back, me. Now what else did I need to do?

Chance. I needed to pin him down, once and for all. But he was too tied to Madison – too wild a card when I needed so badly to lay low. If anyone was going to go after him, it would have to be the boys. And yet, it was realistically only me who he would divulge to, if he was going to spill the beans to anyone. Sending the boys instead would only cause him to clam up further, for when I eventually got there.

I growled out loud. So many dead ends, so little I could actually do to rectify my situation. I was already getting antsy and I had barely made it to noon of my first day of suspension. Good thing tomorrow was Saturday and I could bug my pack to do stuff. Or plan. Whichever.

Sitting around, though, I could avoid – at least for a while.

I grabbed my trainers and whistled for Coop. A good ol' trek over the sand dunes sounded just like what I needed to clear my head.

* * *

Over an hour later, I let myself back into the kitchen. My dog and I were both dusty, sweaty, and tired out; Coop barely made it three feet inside before collapsing happily to the tile. I toed off my sneakers before following suit.

Damn but it was nice to concentrate on physical activity again, with minimal mental exhaustion.

After a moment, Coop stood back up and ambled to his water bowl. I watched him lap enthusiastically until my phone buzzed. Checked it, only half paying attention.

_You have: 3 missed calls._

Oh, for goodness' sake. What now? _Who_ now?

I didn't recognise the number so copied and pasted it into google. Mostly expected it to be Bolton listed, or perhaps the police, or even Myra. But it wasn't. It was the _Charleston Times_.

Damn the spotty signal! We had a signal booster in here, but out on the rest of Morris…

I took a deep breath, collecting my thoughts together and pulling out my best Innocent Bystander voice. Hit the redial button.

It rang four times before – "Hello?"

"Hi there, I'm Tory Brennan." I sounded like the sunniest infomercial kid there ever was. Excellent. "I believe I missed your calls earlier, I am so sorry! What can I help you with?"

"Ah well it's more how you can help me! Thanks for calling me back Tory, if I can just find my notes…" A couple of mouse clicks, paper shuffling. Her voice was pretty low but honeyed in the way that presidential PR teams have to perfect. "I'm Rebecca Milton by the way, Jason Taylor called me and gave me your number for an interview. I know all about what's been going on. This whole presentation of your classmate as the disappearing victim is just getting sickly-sweet, y'know?"

"Absolutely." I could have laughed in relief. "Very one-sided."

"Completely," Rebecca said firmly. "Would it be possible to conduct an interview with you about all this face-to-face? I don't know if you're close by to our Charleston offices…"

"I'm out on Morris Island," I said, thinking fast, "but I would probably need to bring my Dad along. Could we do it tomorrow morning?"

"Make the Sunday headlines, provided the Governor does nothing important over the next couple of days? Sounds awesome to me."

We exchanged a few more details before she put the phone down. I sat smiling at the cabinet for a few minutes before texting Kit, Whitney, and the boys the news: I was about to fight back at the prejudice against me.

I could fight back. I could take control again; I would take control again.

One person at a time.

* * *

**A/N: this actually concludes part three! (I sound surprised because it wasn't originally going to conclude here, but tbh almost none of my original plan even applies any more, sooo…) I just jumped back to 3.1 and I started this section with an apology for having a month long hiatus… oh dear, this author has slowed down terribly over the last year and a half. Still, I am still ~trying~. Part four signals the finale slash climax – more questions, attacks closing in, and maybe even some answers… (I'll try and get on that!)**

**Thanks for all joining me on this wild ride so far. I can't wait to take 'Catalyst' to its epic conclusion! (I love hearing your feelings/theories/reactions!) **

**P.S: as one reviewer pointed out, with updates coming regularly again and storylines falling into place, it might be an idea to reread 'Catalyst', to understand where some of these storylines are coming from/where they end up… hehehe… **


	35. prologue IV

**Prologue IV**

She smiled at the girl and left the room with a friendly whisper of "goodnight, lovely". Made sure the door shut quietly, so the girl would feel calm, but audibly enough that she wouldn't be scared.

She turned the key in the lock as the door catch slid into place. The girl didn't need to know about that bit. Or rather, she didn't need to know if all went well. It was just protecting against a dangerous change of heart.

Now, to deal with the other matters.

The hacker-tracker strode down the corridor, exiting the bedroom wing and tap-tapping towards the study. Her late husband always hated the clop of high heels on the floor; her sister had always cackled at this, describing it as a fear of powerful women. She wasn't wrong, but then, her husband had been right to feel a trace of lingering fear.

Damn men, with their fragile egos and desperate requirement for reassurance. Thrice-damned, when they didn't quite fill their quotas of reassurance and threw temper-tantrums in answer: why in seven hells had Paugh decided he needed to _expel _the girl? No doubt her father would fight for her, with the speed Brennan had called him after the bludgeoning tonight, but she herself would also put in a word. Maybe slip in a cheque too. A small one. It had been a few months since she'd paid Declan a visit, and it wouldn't do any good for him to think she was overly interested in Brennan.

She sank into the leather sofa and crossed her ankles, eyes staring out the dark window panels without seeing anything. Madison really had wound them up well, but it wasn't an inescapable net. It was her truer form of therapy, really; even after she knew…

It didn't matter. They were close to the end: Claybourne was performing exactly as he should, Brennan would soon be lulled back into a (false) sense of security, and everyone was looking in the wrong direction. It was just left to her to choose the… what had that ridiculous Gamemaster called it? Probably a 'stage', 'a final act'. Some other useless male melodrama. He'd failed to get the job done by failing to understand the teenagers. So many stupid men underestimating the damn kids!

Little Tory Brennan was the key to the Morris pack; break her and they scattered the lot.

But that was enough ruminating. She pushed off the sofa and went to the large oak desk – a replica of Hollis Claybourne's, but a rather less narcissistic size. From the drawer, she pulled her diary, squinting as she turned the pages. When would be best? Somewhere Brennan would be just one of many… dark…

Oh yes. That was _perfect._

She shut the diary and smiled to the imaginary companion. "I think we'll have her."

* * *

**A/N: I've had way too much fun with these prologues. I've also been pretty ill and recovered just in time for holiday now, or enough to fly anyway, so please don't hate for lack of update :( **


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